


Stanley's Solution

by WhatWouldLilyDo



Series: NurseyDex Week [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Bodyswap, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Family Loss, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Medication, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Panic Attacks, Post-Break Up, Stanley Cup Magic, Therapy, freaky friday AU, ransom and holster totally think they're dex's dads now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWouldLilyDo/pseuds/WhatWouldLilyDo
Summary: When Nursey made a passing comment about Dex at the Pens Development Camp, he never expected this to happen.AU Sequel toSome Things Can't Be Fixed. Freaky Friday AU. Takes place the summer between the Frogs' sophomore and junior years (after year 3 in canon).In between posting this first chapter, and finishing the rest of the fic, this fic also became extra AU because Penguins won the Stanley Cup in 2016 instead of the Falconers. The Falconers were now eliminated from the Playoffs in game 7 of the Conference Final. Jack and Bitty never came out.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of NurseyDex week is AU day, and this is one of the prompts where I didn’t have anything completed already, and I haven’t had time to finish one. Plus, the idea that I have has potential to be a much longer fic. So, I’ve decided to post the first chapter today and I intend to continue with it after @omgcpheartbreakfest is over, and probably also after I’ve finished Fresh. Anyway it’s basically a Freaky Friday AU with a bit of Stanley Cup magic thrown in and is set the summer after Dex and Nursey’s sophomore year (so 2016)
> 
> Background for those who haven’t read either that or any of my other works: NurseyDex shared a room in their freshman year, during which they started a secret relationship with each other. They chose to have their own rooms for sophomore year, and a combination of communication failings, mental health issues on both sides, and a desire for different things from the relationship led to their eventual break up after the Dib Flip.

The first day of four had passed of the Penguins’ prospect camp and Derek hadn’t quite bonded with anybody else there. He had tried to talk to the one other Black defenseman, but then they had been pitched against each other in practice and by the time he tried to track him down later, it was only to hear a sexist locker-room comment which would never be heard within Faber’s walls.

So, Derek found himself at the end of the day not particularly wanting to do anything except go back to his hotel room and FaceTime Ransom and Holster, who were currently in Cape Cod, or Chowder, who was at his own prospect camp in Tampa. There were still three days to get through, however, so he forced himself to stick with the crowd who wanted to socialize.

“Ready to go pick up some puck bunnies?” one guy asked Derek and a couple of others when they were dismissed from the day’s debrief. He was a recent graduate who was on his fourth prospect camp after having been drafted in 2013, and was acting superior about it towards all of those who were new to the deal.

Derek shrugged. “Ah, I probably won’t—”

“Wait!” another rookie interrupted; this one an eighteen year old who was more enthusiastic than Chowder, and had been nicknamed Giddy as a result. “I need another look at the cup before we go. Oh, God, do you think they’ll let me take a selfie with it? I mean, it won’t be here later in the week, will it? The tour’s about to start!”

The rest of them sighed, but hung back to wait for Giddy as he asked the Keeper of the Cup if he could take a selfie.

“Got a girl back home, then, Nurse?”

Derek hesitated. The assumptions in that question were immense. “No.”

“Ah, but there’s someone you’ve got your eye on.” It was a statement, and it was delivered with such a certainty that Derek didn’t feel like he could deny it. Especially not when his mind had darted to Dex.

“Yeah. Well, we were sort of— Uh. It’s my ex. But there’s certain things— I just wish we could see things from each other’s point of view, you know? Then we could sort it out.”

“Bro. That’s some hang up you’ve got there. Sounds like you need a lay.”

Derek winced. That was unlikely. He was saved the trouble of responding by Giddy tearing himself away from the Cup. An hour into drinking, and it would be easy for him to disappear, leaving his fellow prospects to assume he had hooked up with someone when instead he could go back to his hotel room alone.

* * *

 

Derek frowned, eyes still closed. Why he could hear the repetitive tone of an Android phone alarm instead of  _Can I Kick It_ , he didn’t understand. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling, which was much closer than it should be. The alarm was irritating, so he twisted around to look for the cause.

“What the fuck?” he whispered.

He must still be dreaming, because there was no way he had gone to sleep in a Pittsburgh hotel and woken up in the Haus. He couldn’t have gone to sleep topless and woken up wearing a long-sleeved button-up, but one tickled at his collarbone. And yet, it seemed so real: the way he was clearly in Lardo’s bed and it looked like Dex’s Samsung which buzzed on the top of the cupboard-turned-bedside-table. And, when he reached out to silence the thing, it was with a white, freckled hand.

“Fuck this is a messed-up dream,” he said to himself, staring at Dex’s reflection in the phone screen.

It hurt when he pinched himself. Derek wondered if that was just a saying. He was surprised, however, to find the familiar pool of fear in his stomach as he looked down the steps of the lofted bed. It’s just a dream. If it’s just a dream, why did it feel so nightmarish to be a few feet off the ground? He would wake up in Pittsburgh in a moment.

His heartbeat picked up at an alarming rate, and his chest started to hurt. He wasn’t waking up, and his eyes were fixed on the floorboards, which appeared to be spinning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He typed Will’s birthday into the phone unlock screen.

_Incorrect PIN._

He typed in his own birthday.

_Incorrect PIN._

“What the fuck. If it’s my dream, shouldn’t I be able to guess the damn PIN?” he growled at the phone in frustration. His heart fluttered, and he expected to start feeling detached from the room in any second, but the feeling never came. Instead, the ache in his chest grew, and his breathing shallowed beyond his control. Three more fruitless attempts, (2428, 2824, and 1996) and the phone locked him out to try again in 30 seconds. By now, silent tears streamed down his face, his whole body trembled with the struggle to breathe. He fumbled with the bottle of pills next to where he had picked the phone up from, and eventually his quaking hands managed to force the bottle open and shake one into his sweaty palm. He didn’t have time to search for a water bottle, but he had seen Dex swallow his medication dry hundreds of times, so that’s what he did, surprised at how easily it slid down his throat.

“Stop,” he moaned, but his body carried on aching. He prayed for a blackout to bring the pain to an end.

The phone which now lay in his lap started ringing, and it was his own name which appeared on the screen.

“Yeah,” he breathed into the microphone.

“Derek?” It was strange to hear his own voice saying his name.

“Will,” he forced out.

“Shit. Derek, are you okay?”

“What’s going on?”

“I— I don’t know. I woke up in some hotel and I look like… Well, like you. So I called me. Your password’s my birthday?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long silence in which Derek expected an admonishment, but instead Will started breathing exaggeratedly. “Breathe with me, baby,” he said, and that’s what Derek tried to do.

A few minutes passed of them breathing in synchronization, until Derek found the courage to ask, “You’ve been living at the Haus?”

“Yeah, it was easier to keep my job at Stop and Shop, and get another job in Samwell than to go back to Maine.”

“And you’ve been sleeping in the top bunk?”

“Like I’d let you go up there. You’d probably fall out of bed.” He hesitated. “You didn’t fall out, did you?”

“No. Nope. Just freaked out about how I’m ever going to get out, but I haven’t fallen yet.”

“Oh. I— You can do it. Just— Put me on speakerphone, yeah?”

Derek did as he was told, and bit his lip as Will talked him through getting his feet back on the ground.

“I didn’t want to buy the second bed until you were there and we could split the money,” Will said, as soon as he knew Derek was sat on the floor, phone back against his ear.

“Don’t be silly. If I’m going to be the one sleeping in it, I can buy it myself. We don’t need to split it.”

“Derek—”

“We don’t. It’s my bed. I’ll buy it. I’ll do it today, if we’re stuck in this Freaky Friday situation. What’s your laptop password? I’ll transfer some money to your card so I can do it.”

“You— You think we’re stuck like this?”

“It doesn’t feel like a dream any more.”

Will breathed heavily on the other end of the phone. “No, it doesn’t. God, how did this happen? How is this even possible?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders against the ladder of the bed. “I don’t know. In the movie it’s a racist trope about magic, and that isn’t—” He cut himself off, thinking back to the moment when they had been waiting for Giddy. By the Stanley Cup.

“What?” Will apparently sensed the realization in his silence.

“It was me.”

“What?”

“I— Fuck. I wished we could see things from each other’s point of view and the Cup was right there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Stanley Cup, Will. I’m in Pittsburgh for the Pens Development Camp. They had the Stanley Cup there, and I wished for us to— for this. Except not this because why would this be how I would want it solved, oh my God.”

“It’s not— Stanley Cup magic isn’t real, Derek.”

“Neither was waking up in your ex-boyfriend’s body as far as we knew yesterday, and yet here we fucking are.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t,” Derek snapped, “call me that.”

“I’m sorry.”

For the break-up, or for the term of endearment, Derek didn’t know, but he bit back the question. It was probably better not finding out.

“I have to get to work,” Will finally said, when Derek didn’t respond. “I’m just working nine thirty to three at Stop and Shop today so you’re getting off lightly. Uh. I’ll text you all my passcodes and stuff.”

“You— You want me to go into work for you? Can’t I call in sick?” Derek stared at the floor in shock.

Will clicked his tongue. “And you’d be happy for me to tell the Penguins you’re too sick to go to training today?”

“That’s different! We both play hockey! I have no idea what I’m supposed to do at your job. I’ll get you fired or something.”

“Yeah, and if you call in sick less than an hour before I have to be in then they won’t bother extending my contract in a month’s time. Please, Derek, it’s not even a full day. It’s so easy, you’ll be fine.”

“Shit. Shit, okay. Practice is at quarter to ten. I’ve already got a Lyft booked for nine to go to UPMC.”

“Okay. Wear sunscreen for the walk in. There’s some in my locker for when you’re coming back, but leave it in there. Um. My locker key’s on my staff card in my work jacket pocket. Number 67. You’ll want to make something for lunch to take, too, because the break length sucks, and trust me you want every minute you can sitting down instead of walking back down to the floor to buy food.”

“‘Kay,” Derek said, though he wondered how in hell they were going to pull today off like this. “Don’t have any dairy.”

“I know your diet, Derek.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t mind if you want meat or anything. I can’t guarantee my body will be too happy about it after this long of never eating it, but I don’t mind. Just you really do have to be careful of labels for the dairy.”

“I’m not going to eat anything you don’t normally. I couldn’t do that.”

Derek wasn’t sure what to say. “Well... you put sunscreen on too, okay? And don’t mess up my hair.”

“I’m going to be wearing a helmet, so no guarantees there.”

Derek sighed and leaned his head backwards. “Right. Okay. Call me later. And text me anything else I need to know. I’ll find you my flight details back to New York and if this is still a thing at the weekend, then you can drive up to Samwell Sunday morning. What’s your phone PIN?”

“6174.”

Derek frowned, trying to figure out some meaning to it. “Is that… Your parents’ anniversary? June 1st, ‘74?”

“What? No, my parents got married in _ninety_ -four. It’s closer to their  _birthdays_ , but… no. It’s Kaprekar’s constant.”

“What’s that?”

“I… Just Google it. I need to shower if I’m going to get out of here by nine.”

“Wait! 6174, yeah?” Derek confirmed, scribbling the numbers on the palm of his hand when Will confirmed them. “And I’m taking Seroquel at the moment.”

“Fuck. Okay. You alright, though?”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe you being in my head will help things stabilise naturally or something.”

“Or I’ll fuck something else up.”

Derek sighed. “Don’t do that.”

Will was quiet for a moment. “I’m just on Prozac and allergy stuff,” he finally said.

“And I just took Ativan.”

“That’s okay. Can you manage the eye drops?”

Derek groaned. The idea of touching his eyes — or especially touching Will’s eyes, and them feeling like his own — made him queasy, but he also knew how red the pollen would turn them if he skipped the drops. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Just Lithium and Seroquel, yeah?”

Derek made a noise of assent, “Make sure you’ve got my epipen in my hockey bag, but leave the Xanax at the hotel. I had it with me yesterday but I don’t think I trust those guys enough to risk it.”

“It’s only the one practice, anyway, right?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. Right?”

“Sure,” Will said, though he sounded less than convinced. “I’ll talk to you later. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Derek hung up and collapsed into the fetal position. It was going to be a really long day, pretending to be the person he had been trying to forget.


	2. Day One (Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dex struggles to pretend to be Nursey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter?? It's been nearly a year but I promise it was for good reason. Since then, I've completely finished [Fresh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337325), and I've also finished writing this fic! So all that's left to do is some final beta reading and edits that might arise from those and posting. I am doing camp nanowrimo in April, though, to get myself a decent way through the sequel to Fresh, so this chapter is a bit of a teaser, with the rest to come probably in May.
> 
> TWs: racism, minor hockey violence (not explicit), sexism, food/diet issues.  
> None of the Penguin prospects are based on real people, nor are they a reflection of my own opinion of the Penguins.

“Nurse?”

“Uh, yeah.”

It must be obvious. He was too stiff. He wasn't chill enough. The hat on his head felt strange and the phone in his pocket was simultaneously too big and too slim, so he found himself playing with both. He was too self-conscious and surely he would be caught out as not being Derek.

“UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex?”

“Thanks.”

Would Derek even say  _ thanks _ ? He'd probably say  _ yeah, that's chill _ or something.

The Lyft driver didn’t know him from Adam, so Will tried to force himself to relax. It would be fine. Just a day playing hockey with people he didn’t know, and pretending to be Derek Nurse. At least they had a similar playing style, and everyone would have trouble remembering each other's names after one day. He spent the journey practising a look of recognition.

Will had never been a fan of going to places where he didn’t know anybody, and it was even worse where they all knew each other already. He followed someone else to the locker room, praying that there wasn't a different one he was supposed to go to, and when he entered he only received a few nods: no hellos or smiles or friendly faces. Most of the room ignored his presence completely. Will felt self-conscious as he changed into Derek’s gear. If it were him, he might expect this reaction. Usually the friends he made in these circumstances were lucky coincidences when someone took pity on his awkwardness and adopted him, such as had happened with Chowder when they first met. Derek, however, was outgoing and cool and made friends easily. Will worried his bottom lip as he adjusted his pads. Logically, he knew that Nursey’s ease with strangers wasn’t a mysterious natural magnetism which made them strike up conversation with him.  _ What would Nursey do? _

He strode up to a group of guys chirping each other. “Yo.”

They stared him down. Will wished he could run away. Their faces asked,  _ ‘Why is he talking to us?’ _ and  _ ‘We're better than him.’ _ Will swallowed. Finally, one of them  — someone he recognized as a fifth round draftee  — spoke up.

“Nurse, right? Samwell?”

“That's me. Congratulations on the draft.”

The other man shrugged. Will guessed that it wasn’t that exciting to be drafted if you're not even a top 150 pick. He was bound to go to the AHL, but Will couldn't help begrudge his ambivalence when he was going to play professional hockey, and was wealthy enough not to worry about the AHL’s lower salary or having no academic safety net if he were to get injured.

It had gone quiet again. Nobody asked him anything, or offered up commentary on Samwell’s season, or introduced themselves, and Will wasn’t sure if that meant that Derek had talked to them the day before or if they thought themselves above NCAA players.

He was saved from spiralling thoughts by the arrival of a coach and day two of the development camp officially starting.

* * *

The combination of NHL drills, harsher checks than would ever fly in NCAA, and playing in a body he wasn’t used to had Will emotionally fatigued after a mere ten minutes. Impressively, his body wasn’t failing him.  _ Derek’s body _ , he reminded himself. He hadn’t been slacking on conditioning himself, but Derek had kept skating most of the summer and had made sure he was fit enough to play with the pros. It showed, even if Will struggled to acclimate.

It didn’t, however, explain why his d-partner for the session seemed so annoyed about being paired with him. He ignored Will most of the time and otherwise avoided speaking directly to him.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Will asked, as he pulled his pads off when they took a break. The other defenseman raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I have a problem with you?”

Will gave a lopsided shrug, though he didn’t let go of his jersey, which he flapped up and down against his neck to cool himself. Derek had always chirped him for turning so red from hot flushes of exercise but, by  _ God,  _ Will had never felt as hot as he did now  — not even after the Frozen Four final in frog year. “I don't know. But I was open after you checked Jones, and I had a good shot on goal. You saw that then tried to pass to Ilic anyway and we lost the puck.”

“I think you're reading too far into this,” his partner said with a smirk. Will’s eyebrows drew together and he turned to find some hockey tape. Derek’s stick was taped all wrong and he couldn’t leave it like that any longer. “But,” the defenseman continued, “just so that you're aware. If you start any fights, I didn't come here to get beat up on the off-season, so don’t drag me into it.”

“Fights?” Will repeated incredulously, but when he turned to see if it was some sort of joke, he found himself talking to a swinging door. He stared at the back of his  — Derek’s  — hands. Had Derek got in a fight the day before? It didn’t look like it and Will hadn't thought his aches waking up that morning were anything more than worked muscles, but why else would anybody be expecting a fight from Derek of all people? The only hockey player Will had ever known to shy away from fights more than Derek was Bitty. And, well, even Bitty had his moments. Derek was a pacifist 24/7. He checked people if necessary but he had never gone looking for actual fights, on or off the ice. Will vividly remembered one kegster when Derek had pulled him away from a lax bro who had been making problems, and somehow ended the row with just a few calm words. Even in frog year when they argued most days, both frustrated and confused and figuring out how they liked each other, Will hadn’t once thought their playful wrestling could turn into genuine violence. It just wasn't Derek. It wasn’t either of them, really, but Will knew why people expected him to be quick with his fists. At some point, that expectation had turned into a reality. People never made that mistake with Derek.

Except here they did.

He noticed it more when they got back onto the ice: the way those who were thirsting for a fight checked him a little harder; the way he was pushed towards a scuffle he had no desire to involve himself in; the chirps which all implied that they were waiting for him to lose it. Will didn’t understand why, but it left him with a sick feeling in his stomach.

With most of his other interactions with the players revolving around drills, Will resigned himself to a lunchtime alone. He certainly didn’t expect someone to call over to him as he chugged his fourth bottle of water that day.

“Oi Nurse. We're going for lunch. Can't be doing with this canteen food again. Jojo found a diner. You in?”

He snapped his head up and stared at the winger talking to him. They hadn't been working together that much, so Will didn’t even know his name, but he was so surprised to be invited out with someone that “Sure,” left his mouth before he had time to think it over. He shoved Derek’s phone, epipen and wallet into his pockets and locked the hockey bag away before following the group.

“Where'd you disappear to last night?” the winger asked. “We tried looking for you. We went to another club.”

“Oh. Uh. I went back to my hotel,” Will stuttered.

“You get that lay, then? That blonde girl? She was so hot, man.”

Will flinched. He knew that Derek didn’t hook up with strangers and that he hadn’t even felt hungover when he woke so the odds of Derek having a late night were low, but he still didn’t like to hear such a thing.

“She was alright,” he said, because if high school had taught him anything, it was what to say in situations like this.

“Nothing on that ex of yours, though?”

If Will had been in his own skin, he would be bright red. He thanked his lucky stars that he was able to keep up an appearance of chill, shrugging to hoots from those listening in on their conversation.

“How long were you together?” another one of them asked.

“Oh, uh, just over a year? Fifteen months, maybe.” It depended when they counted as the date they got together.

“What's her name?”

Will nearly choked. “Jackie,” he said, the first name to come to mind. Fuck, he would have to make the weirdest apology to Jack and Bitty later.

“Does she like hockey?”

“S’come to every game I've played at Samwell,” Will said, quite truthfully.

They piled into a diner, but Will didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, instead letting the winger who had originally invited him steer him to the seat next to him.

“No wonder you're still hung up on her.”

“Are you ready to order?” a waitress asked. Will fumbled for a menu. As everyone else pitched in with their orders, he realized his mistake in agreeing to lunch. Nothing on this menu was vegan, and all the vegetarian options included cheese.

“Nurse, man, what're you having?” the guy next to him asked, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, uh, just curly fries, thanks. And, uh, does the side salad have any dairy or anything in?”

“If you have ranch.”

“No, thanks. I'm allergic to milk. So just the salad no dressing, please.”

“Anything to drink?”

He ordered a Pepsi and sat back, letting the confusion of the table’s conversation wash over him. He had hoped to pick up some of their names by now, but he had no idea of any of them.

“You’ve seriously never watched women’s basketball?” a guy in a University of Connecticut hoodie asked one of the goalies, incredulously. Will eyed his hoodie curiously. If Will was trying harder to befriend these people, then as NCAA players in New England he would be the first person Will would try to bond with. Perhaps Derek had agreed, and that was how he had ended up going clubbing with this particular group.

“I’m not even into normal basketball, man,” the goalie replied.

Will bristled. “You know the women still play the same game, right? It’s not ‘normal’ basketball and women’s basketball. It’s just men’s or women’s.”

The guy next to him smirked. “Yeah, bro, like the NWHL is totally the same league as the NHL.” His words dripped with sarcasm.

Will knew he should let it drop, but he couldn't help snorting. “Please. I've got video evidence of Georgia Martin destroying the Falcs first line single-handedly. Don't discount women in hockey.”

Will felt Derek's phone buzz and slid it out his pocket to see a Snapchat notification from Ransom. When he looked up, he everybody's eyes were on him.

“How exactly do you have a video of that?” Connecticut hoodie asked. “I follow all the Falcs social media. I've not seen anything like that.”

Will pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth nervously. He could hardly tell them Jack Zimmermann’s boyfriend had filmed it. “Uh. Jack — ” He hesitated.

“Oh, damn, of course!” another guy exclaimed, knocking a pepper pot over in excitement. “Zimmermann went to Samwell, didn’t he?”

“He was my captain first year,” Will confirmed. This was okay. This was familiar territory. Nothing specific to Derek.

“Shame about the playoffs,” Connecticut said. “I really thought they were going to have it for a bit. Overtime in the 7th game of the Conference Final. So close.”

“Haha, yeah,” Will said, cringing even as he did.  _ God,  _ he was pretending to be Derek not  _ Jack.  _ He should be the opposite of awkward. “They were gutted, but they’re proud of how they did, I think.”

“Imagine if they had won,” said the kid who had knocked the pepper pot over. “That would have been one for the history books, wouldn’t it?”

“Not really,” the guy next to Will said.

“They’re a newer team, and Zimmermann’s captain as a rookie…”

“Parse came straight from juniors to captain the Aces to a win their first year. I for one am glad they didn’t win, and so should all of you. Seeing as we’re at the prospect camp of the actual Stanley Cup winners.”

Will stared at the table. It  _ would  _ have been one for the history books, not that any of the others knew it. He tried to imagine how things would be different if Jack Zimmermann, bisexual player with anxiety, had captained his team to victory (alongside Marty and Thirdy, of course). Jack wasn’t  _ out,  _ of course, but eventually he might be, and then everyone would know that he was dating Bitty when he won his first Stanley Cup.

“Finally,” someone on the end of the table said loudly, jerking Will back to the present. “Food!”

“I don't know how you can eat that rabbit food,” Connecticut said when the waitress brought their food. Will scratched at his wrist under the table, nervous about the focus returning to him.

“Sometimes rabbits have good — ” He started to quote Derek’s standard comeback, but the words died in his throat as he looked at the salad in front of him. “Uh excuse me?” The waitress turned back to him. “I ordered no dressing.”

He knew that face so well. The widened eyes of someone who had messed up, followed by a rush to look innocent, fear of getting fired taking over.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Will was sure he heard her stutter over the words. Her eyes flickered to a man in a suit. Her manager, Will assumed, and he was looking less and less friendly as the seconds ticked by. Will shoved his hands under his thighs to stop himself from picking anxiously at Derek’s nails. His own persistent fear that any mistake could get him fired had his heart beating in double time.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, hastily, before she could offer to get him another. “It’s okay. Thank-you.”

The girl hesitated, a frown appearing between her eyes. “Are you-”

“I’m sure,” Will insisted. “Thank-you.”

He picked at his curly fries as everyone else dug into burgers and chicken wings and beef nachos, oblivious to Will’s lowered mood. What would Derek have done? He probably would have demanded that replacement salad. He may even have kicked enough of a fuss so that he could have something more substantial to eat in the first place. Of course, he would have offered to pay above and beyond what he needed to, because he wouldn't want to be difficult, but would it save the waitress? Was it worth the hassle, and the stress it would cause her? No; Will would find an excuse to leave early, go to the Target he had noticed nearby, and buy some protein bars or something.

The excuse came quicker and easier than he expected, when one of the guys pointed a shrimp at him and asked, “Aren’t you doing your prayer thing today?”

Will’s head jerked up. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten. Midday had already passed, but it wasn’t always at noon. He tried to remember what sort of time Islamic prayers fell in summer. Not that any of these would care that much. The way a couple of them smirked over the mere thought of him  — or Derek  — praying put him on the defensive, but at least he reckoned he knew more about it than they did. He had been around during Derek’s prayers enough. Even their first date had included a trip to the temple before lunch, though Will had waited outside.

“Uh, yeah. I was just thinking I’d head back to the rink now, actually, for that.” He downed the last of his Pepsi and pulled a few bills out of Derek’s wallet to place next to the untouched salad plate. “Later.”

_ “Chill, Poindexter,”  _ he told himself as he walked to Target. He jumped in surprise over his voice, uncannily Derek’s. That wouldn’t stop being freaky any time soon.

It took him staring at the ingredients of four different protein bars  — dismissing each one as soon as he saw any mention of milk or casein or lactic acid (because he wasn’t sure if that was okay or not and Google suggested he avoided it just in case)  — before he gave up and settled for foods he had seen Derek eat in the past. He picked a tube of plain Pringles for later, and a bag of nuts and a bottle of Silk vanilla soy milk for now. It might not be a hearty meal, but however much his eyes wandered to sandwiches and cold meats, he couldn’t bring himself to buy any. Not in Derek’s body. He grabbed a bag of apples on his way to the checkout, to make it more balanced, but resisted the instant ramen on the grounds that he would have to carry everything to the Sports Complex and try to eat quickly, or on the way.

* * *

Will was exhausted by the time he got back to his hotel five hours later. He hadn’t eaten a substantial meal since the hard-boiled eggs he had ordered from room service first thing (after much debating, and finally remembering that one time in Maine when Derek had eaten eggs and commented that while his ma didn’t eat egg as a Hindu who kept lacto-vegetarian, he avoided them because he wasn’t keen on the taste. Will agreed: Derek’s taste buds made egg taste odd). Not only that, but he had been pushed to his limits on the ice and his anxiety had been simmering at a high level, his interactions with the other players only the start of his troubles when he felt the disappointment rolling off the coaches. He wasn’t performing as they had expected him to, and Will knew that he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Derek was the one who had been invited to the development camp, not him. Their style of play might be similar, but Derek’s hockey stick was longer and stronger and lighter than Will was used to. It did make certain plays easier, but Will was struggling to get used to the power and found himself fumbling over the puck more than once. He had felt much more at ease once they had been scattered across Pittsburgh to train peewee teams, but for every moment the spotlight was on him and his skills as a hockey player, he felt he had failed Derek.

His eyes watered in relief when he found one of Derek’s vegan-approved pizza chains close enough to order, so he could be saved the trouble of scouring the Internet for nearby food he could eat. Once Derek’s standard order (minus the extra jalapeños) was on its way, Will went for a quick shower and pulled on the tracksuit pants he had woken up in that morning. Derek didn’t seem to have packed a night shirt, so Will pulled a Samwell hoodie on and powered up the MacBook.

He had forgotten to ask for Derek’s laptop password, but given how easy it had been to get into his phone that morning, he wasn’t too worried. Sure enough, it only took a few tries and some analysing of the password hint before he hit gold. He shook his head in fond exasperation. Apparently all it took to hack Derek’s entire online life was knowing he was in love with Will.

Derek’s Skype booted automatically, and before Will had time to click over to that window there was an incoming call. His own profile picture flashed over the screen. It was still the ginger kitten dressed up as a lion that Holster had changed it to a few weeks ago when Will had naively left his laptop unattended. He needed to change that.

His phone beeped, but he answered the Skype call before looking at it.

“Give me a second. Food just got here.”

“Hi Will, good to talk to you, too, my day was great thanks for asking!”

Will ignored him as he grabbed the room key and phone and sprinted down to the hotel foyer to get his pizza. Five minutes later, he was back on the bed. “Sorry about that. Hi.”

A grin spread across his  — Derek’s  — no,  _ his _ face. Derek was grinning, but it was Will's smile. “Snap.” He held up a piece of pizza.

Will let out a hollow chuckle. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for them to do this as a video call. A chill shivered down his spine as he watched his own face drop. He watched emotions of disappointment and uncertainty flash in his eyes. He saw the moment when it became too weird for Derek to look anywhere but the computer’s own camera image, too.

“No, we have to do it like this. Face to face,” Derek muttered. Will sighed. It was true. They couldn’t afford to be misinterpreting each other right now, and being able to see each other’s expressions was important for that.

“So… You made a wish by the Stanley Cup.”

Will didn’t believe it. Well, he believed Derek said the wish out loud. It was the same wish he made himself every time he looked at the stars, or closed his eyes to go to bed, or passed the Red Vines in Stop and Shop. He didn’t believe the Cup could have caused this.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Derek said. “It’s not like I knew that this would happen. I wasn’t stood there thinking maybe Stanley Cup Magic is real and this will get me back with Will.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of that.”

“Well it feels pretty fucking judgey the way that you asked me that.”

“Derek. Please. I just want to understand if there’s anything we have to do or talk about to make us switch back. I don’t think I’m cut out for this whole NHL thing. Today was — ” He bit down on his lip and shook his head. It was hard to think. His muscles screamed and his brain just wanted to go to sleep.

“Are you saying my body isn’t strong enough for you?”

“That’s not what I said.”

He had only ever seen the twist on his face in mirror image, but he knew what it meant and it broke him that it was Derek feeling that loss, that self-doubt, that insecurity.

“You're in really good shape. I think. I don't know, it felt like I was overheating at times but maybe that's just how intense it was.”

Derek looked anywhere but the camera as he nodded. “That happens. It's a side effect of Lithium, but I've had multiple doctors check I don't get dangerously hot. As long as you were keeping me hydrated and taking off layers off the ice, it's okay.”

“Then you're in great shape. You're going to make it pro easily. I'm — I'm proud of you.”

“Yeah? And I survived a day in retail, too.”

Will cracked a grin. “Truly a miracle,” he joked.

Derek was overly interested in his last slice of pizza, but in Will's skin it was impossible to hide the blush which spread down his bare chest. “You know. It's not so hard. It was actually pretty fun talking to customers all day. And at least everything is repetitive enough to pick up quickly.”

Will frowned. He knew that it wasn’t a job which required a great deal of expertise or specialist skill, but after a day of struggling with a sport he had been playing for fifteen years, it was strange to hear that Derek had fit in where he hadn’t expected to. “So… It was okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. You know, I think you’re right. Everyone  _ should  _ work in customer service at least once. It’s illuminative, being on the other side of the register. There’s something soul destroying about the monotony of it, and then a customer comes along and expects you to remember their favorite brand of coffee, even when you don’t know who they are.”

“That’s Genie,” Will said. “She likes New England coffee.” He was certain she had dementia, so at least she was unlikely to remember if ‘Will’ hadn’t recognized her that once. His colleagues, however…

Derek shrugged as he rearranged himself so that he could lie down, laptop balanced at an angle on his stomach. “Anyway, like I say. Definitely a thing everyone should do.”

Something twisted in Will’s gut. Derek was saying this now? After all those times he had dismissed retail workers without a second thought? After he had rolled his eyes in the face of Will’s tirades about his lack of knowledge about working in the real world? He came away from a five and a half hour shift enlightened?

“It’s not just some quirky one-day experience, Derek, it’s people’s livelihoods.”

“Oh, I know. I have the greatest respect for — what’s her name? Jill? The old lady who’s worked there for years and years?”

“You mean Julie?”

“Right! Amazing.”

Will wiped his hands on the bed sheets, even though they were dry. “That’s not — Uh.” He stared at the screen, trying to figure out what was so strange about the way his pillows under Derek’s head lay. “Is that the new bed?”

Derek sat up. “Yeah! I managed to find somewhere that would do same day delivery. They even helped me move the ladder of your bed the extra inch so that we could fit it in.” He waved the laptop around so that Will could see.

“But it’s a double bed.” Will wasn’t impressed. He had expected them to have a decent amount of floor space to split between the two of them, but now the bed would stretch out into the middle of the room.

“Queen size! I’ll have to get some new sheets tomorrow. I forgot that I’d need some, so I’m making do with yours for tonight.”

Will dug his fingers into his thighs, and immediately let go again, as if burned. He couldn’t do that in Derek’s body.  _ “Derek.” _

Derek dropped the laptop back onto his knees and frowned. “What?”

Will stared at him incredulously. “You bought a Queen-size bed? For our college room? Where we, two ex-boyfriends, are supposed to live together in a small space meant for one.”

“There’s still plenty of room around it,” Derek argued, turning the laptop around so that the camera was focused on the gap between the end of the bed and the desk.

“It’s more than half the room. And how much did it cost?”

“It doesn’t matter, Poindexter. My bed, my money.”

“You do realize I could just check my bank account?”

“Well,  _ don’t.  _ It’s my money. I’ll pay you back every cent.”

Will picked at his fingernails to distract him from his increasing irritation. “I knew we should have bought it together.”

When the camera swung around, it showed Derek contorting Will’s face into a pout. “Yeah, okay, Poindexter. Well, I had a panic attack on waking this morning, and no offence but your body feels like it hasn’t had a proper sleep in months, so I’m going to enjoy my nice, new bed now. Work tomorrow?”

“No. Day off. Saturday, five am to two pm.”

“ _ Five?  _ I — Whatever. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Will frowned at the screen, where the picture had disappeared to show a conversation from February, followed by the length of their call. It still hurt, talking to Derek, and he wasn’t stupid enough to miss that Derek’s pain was worse. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration.  _ “God damn it.” _

He powered off the MacBook and curled up in the covers. “God damn it, but I love you,” he muttered to himself. Will shuddered over the sound of Derek’s voice. Quietly, tentatively, he repeated, “I love you.” They were the words he wanted to hear in the voice of the man he wanted to hear them from, but he knew there was a big difference between the pining and heartbreak that made his birthday Derek’s phone PIN and his name and jersey number his Mac password, and the possibility of Derek ever being able to forgive him enough to say those three words to him again.

Will bunched the sheets up in his fist and pressed his face into the pillow. He hoped this would end soon. Hopefully, tomorrow he would wake up back in Massachusetts.


	3. Day Two (Derek)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nursey had just hoped to pass the whole day without having to talk to anybody who knew Dex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety attack; therapy session; mentions of self harm, with implied past self harm; paranoia (fears of being institutionalized and of being in a split from reality); general shitty mental health days; loneliness (for more details see end notes)
> 
> If the emojis in Ransom's text don't work for you, they're both the peace sign with the darkest skin tone. But also until I tested viewing them on my phone I forgot that with Dex's phone being an Android it wouldn't actually show up with the skin tone overlay so if you get that, you're just viewing it more realistically haha. (the phone conversations will work best if you show creator's style, but should still be readable if you hide it)

All the hockey games in the world could never have prepared Derek for the ache in his bones when he woke. He felt more fatigued than he had before he had gone to bed, and his arms were throbbing from heaving boxes around and stacking high shelves at Stop and Shop.

Derek sighed. Despite all that he had told Will, he was glad that he didn’t have to worry about work today. It hadn’t been a fun experience. In fact, it had been dull and yet more difficult than he had imagined. Customers asked him questions he didn’t know the answer to, and it was time consuming finding where to put each specific pack of meat. He packed an entire section of shelf with one brand of bacon before realizing that the space he had put it in was for another. When a colleague saw what he had done and made a joke about it, Derek slipped up and commented that he didn’t even eat bacon, and had to swiftly change the subject to avoid the question of why.

He couldn’t admit that to Will, of course. What Will would think of him if he couldn’t even cope with one day in retail, he didn’t know, but the night before — with Will saying how proud he was — Derek had to exaggerate.

Though he was tired and his body ached, his bed was soft and comfortable, even if his legs were tangled in sheets meant for a dorm single. The blankets around him were warm and smelled of Will. It would be pleasant to stay in this bed all day. His mouth was dry, however, and his bladder begged for relief so he rolled off the mattress and stumbled to the bathroom, sparing half a glance to Will's clock mounted on the wall. It wasn't super early but given he had nothing to do and he was so exhausted, he could afford to sleep a little longer.

He crawled back into bed with a bottle of water, but the little amount of movement had left him unable to fall asleep again, with the sun creeping around the edge of the blinds, and his brain racing about the things he would need to do that day. The morning before he had ended up having poached eggs for breakfast and making sandwiches with some of Bitty’s almond butter which he found in the fridge and some of the plum jam which still sat in the cupboard from finals. There weren't many other things in the Haus which he could eat, hence his need to order pizza in the evening, and he’d rather avoid the eggs if there were other options. He groped around for Will’s phone, and squinted at the smudged numbers on his hand to unlock it. There, he found the notes and started a list.

  * veg
  * oatmeal
  * rice
  * spices
  * moisturizer
  * (ikea)
  * sheets
  * pillows/cushions etc



He sighed and let the phone drop by his side. Everything else, he could wing it, but he wanted to make sure that he didn’t forget the most important things. He would have to check the cupboard for which spices Lardo had claimed and the IKEA trip might have to wait until he had figured out the best way to get there without pissing off Will’s wallet. A $50 round trip taxi wouldn’t be the best idea.

Awkwardness over the thought of going into Will’s place of work wasn’t enough to send Derek to Racist Stop and Shop. Instead, he opted for whipping around as quickly as he could, and avoiding eye contact with any of the staff until he got to the checkout, where he shrugged and laughed at the assistant’s joke about him coming to work on his day off. By the time he left he had a headache and a craving for caffeine, so he detoured to Annie’s, planning on getting a soy amaretto latte or maybe just a black americano. The server took one look at him and asked, “Flat white, Dex?”

“Thanks,” Derek said, his tongue moving as if on auto-pilot — and perhaps that is exactly what had happened. A strange thrill ran through his spine. This would be his first taste of milk since the allergy had been identified when he was just a baby. Maybe he would be tasting it in Will’s body, but his curiosity swelled as he handed over the money and waited for the barista to pour his drink. In a last minute decision, he asked for one of their pastries as well, which he knew was filled with buttery indulgence.

The phone in his pocket beeped with a notification halfway back to the Haus, but coffee slopped over the sleeve of Will’s shirt when he tried to rearrange the grocery bags to get to it, so Derek left it. Instead, he took a sip of the coffee before he lost it all to the sidewalk. The liquid was still too hot, and burned his tongue, but he was surprised by how creamy and smooth it was, despite being a lot less sweet than the lattes he favored.

“Good choice, Poindexter,” he muttered to himself. Maybe he should stop adding syrups.

He was at the Haus door when Will’s phone beeped again. Derek dropped his groceries on the porch so that he could check it. There was a text from Ransom, and an event reminder titled _Jeanie_ for two o'clock. Derek frowned and clicked into Will's messages.

 

>  
> 
> **Justin Oluransi**  
>    
>  13:33pm  
>  just got off 95 be there in 2 mins (Peace Sign emoji with Dark Skin Tone)(Peace Sign emoji with Dark Skin Tone) told you we could get back in time

“Back in time for what?” Derek asked his coffee. He flipped onto the recent calls tab and hit the phone symbol next to his own name. It went straight to voicemail. “Fuck, Will, I know you’re probably on the fucking ice right now but did you have to turn it off? What if there was an emergency? This might be an emergency. Who the hell is Jeanie and what is Ransom talking about? You didn’t tell me anything was going on today, Poindexter, what the actual fuck?”

He slammed his thumb on the hang up button just as Holster’s jeep appeared at the end of the road.

_“Fuck.”_

“Aw, Dex, you’re already waiting for us!” Holster boomed when they pulled up in front of the Haus. “Let’s go.”

“I— You know, I don’t feel—” Derek stuttered.

Ransom got out of the jeep. “Use your eyes, Holtzy, we’ve got to help put his groceries away first. You went to Annie’s and didn’t get us coffee?”

“I… didn’t think you’d be here,” Derek hedged, hoping from Ransom’s text that it wasn’t too strange for him to say that.

“So little faith.” Ransom ruffled up his hair; an action which made Derek jump, before they grabbed a bag each.

“Uh, you know, guys, I really don’t— I mean—” Derek rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out how to get out of whatever they wanted to do. He still needed to go to IKEA.

“Feeling healthy, Poindexter?” Holster asked, piling legumes into the cupboard. “This is a lot of seeds and shit.”

“Is this tofu?” Ransom added, holding the packet up.

“Uh, yeah, I thought I’d try something different. Um, I don’t think I want to see Jeanie today.”

The concern on both their faces had Derek worrying. Maybe Jeanie wasn’t a person and it didn’t make sense to say ‘see Jeanie’. Maybe it was something Will had been excited for (although if that were the case, why hadn’t he mentioned it?). Maybe the Jeanie thing wasn’t even related to why Ransom and Holster were here.

“Why not?” Ransom asked. “Wait, Dex, not this again. It’s prepaid, bro. The money’s gone and you can’t do anything about it.”

“No, I— I don’t know. I think I need a mental health day or— or whatever it was Nursey calls them.” Derek winced. He had no idea if that was convincing, and the look Ransom and Holster exchanged suggested that they knew something was off.

“Dex,” Holster said slowly. “You can’t take mental health days off therapy. That’s kind of the point.”

_Therapy._

The box of tea leaves in Derek’s hand slipped an inch.

“Well, you _could_ ,” Ransom argued, “but it wouldn’t be beneficial for you. She’s not going to judge you for having a bad week, okay? If you haven’t been able to do everything she’s suggested you do or think about, that’s okay. The whole point of seeing her is so that you have a way to deal with the bad weeks, so don’t skip whenever things get a bit rough.”

Derek had run out of arguments, and he didn’t know how to vocalize any thoughts about Will going to therapy. _Will,_ who had argued that it was too expensive from the moment he was diagnosed. Will, who had insisted that Samwell Counsellors would suffice. Will, who had shrugged and told Derek that the medication must be working because he felt so much better already.

Then again, Derek had known that the medication alone wasn’t enough. He had told Will that there was more to healing than simply identifying your problems, popping a pill a day and living in hope. He had pointed out that Will wouldn’t be so scared of coming out if it weren’t for his OCD telling him that it was wrong and he would be rejected. He still regretted saying that, because of the insensitivity of the comment, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Ransom guided Derek to the jeep, with a hand on his back and as soon as they were seated, he pulled him into his side. Derek melted against him, and just about held in a whimper when Will’s body responded as if he were touch-starved.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Ransom asked as Holster navigated out of Samwell. Derek shook his head, and Ransom sighed. “We wouldn’t have gone if you’d told us you still needed us. We thought three days would be okay.”

Derek frowned. It sounded awfully like Ransom and Holster had been checking in on Will every day up until their trip to Cape Cod.

“Are you pining?” Holster asked.

_“Holster.”_

“What? Look at him. That’s not typical Will Poindexter anxiety through the roof bad day. This is like—” He cut himself off, his face going red.

Derek peered at him. What exactly did Holster mean by pining? “Like what?”

“It’s—” Holster looked worried, now. “Honestly, it’s like how you were, uh, right after you two broke up.”

_Oh._

“Holster,” Ransom repeated in a warning tone.

“Because avoiding talking about it has been working so well,” Holster snapped.

“You’re not avoiding it! You bring it up every damn week, Holtzy, and it’s not okay. He doesn’t want—”

“I’m just saying. Those groceries? The fucking ingredients for all Nursey’s favorite meals. Three days by himself and he’s moping all over again. That’s the only other time he let me drive, too.”

_“Stop.”_

Derek pulled away from Ransom, feeling sick to his stomach. He stared down at his hands in his lap and tried to figure out what was going on. Ransom and Holster knew about the relationship? They had known about it long enough for this to be an ongoing conversation, and for them to have seen Will in a post-breakup slump and know what was wrong. Will had built a support network around himself, and of course Derek was happy for him, but he had suffered all summer, with only Chowder and his moms to talk to about it, scared to out Will by trying to talk to anybody else in even hypotheticals. Meanwhile, Will had told someone else. Yes, perhaps there would be the same issue with Ransom and Holster that Derek had with Chowder: they were close with Will, and also talking to Will about the situation. Still, Derek had been tiptoeing around it for four months, and two more people he could have been open with might have made all the difference.

To his horror, tears streamed down his cheeks and sobs caught in his throat. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he had cried in front of anybody else. This was surely karma for all the times he had chirped Will over being emotional.

“Come on, Dex,” Ransom said, softly. Derek looked up. He wasn’t sure how long they had been parked outside a health clinic, but Holster had turned the engine off, and Ransom stood at the open passenger door.

The walls inside were the light yellow clinics always used when they wanted to look bright and happy whilst remaining muted and professional. The color reminded Derek of two days without sleep, and post-tattoo itch, and being unable to stick to one topic of conversation for any amount of time. He rubbed his arm, and clamped down on the urge to say that everything was chill, that he certainly didn’t need to be here.

“Hi Liv,” Holster said to the only other person in the waiting area, and he got a wave in response. Ransom pushed Derek towards the desk.

“Uh, hi, uh,” Derek stuttered.

The receptionist smiled. “Good morning, Will. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

She handed over a clipboard, and Derek slumped down into the seat between Ransom and Holster to wait. He stared down at the clipboard. It asked for his current mood, but Derek didn’t have the energy to be truthful. He couldn’t sit through a session where the therapist genuinely tried to help him with a problem she couldn’t understand, so it didn’t take long for him to mindlessly tick the best answer for each question. He tried not to look around the room too obviously or curiously. From Holster’s conversation with Liv, he gleaned that she was waiting for someone who was currently in with a therapist, and that they were there at the same time every week.

“In or out?” Ransom asked.

“Huh?” Derek turned to him, eyebrows pulling together.

Ransom let out a chuckle and wiped his thumb across Derek’s cheek. Derek responded by wiping his mouth with his fist. His face was damp with tears. “Do you want me to go in with you, or stay out here?” Ransom asked. His hand was still gently cupping Derek’s cheek, in a manner so alarmingly similar to how his ma comforted him when he cried as a child, that Derek teared up again.

“Oh. Uh, stay out here,” he hiccupped.

“Okay. You know where I am if you change your mind.”

Ransom dropped his hand to Derek’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. Then he nudged him to get up, and Derek turned his head to see that a woman in her late forties had appeared at one of the doors forking off from the reception. That must be his cue.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile as she led the way down winding corridors. “Or not so good, maybe?”

Derek wiped self-consciously at his cheeks again. “It’s— It’s nothing.” His voice came out gruff, the way Will’s always did when he tried to underplay something. The woman — Jeanie, Derek guessed — gave him a calculating stare which reminded him of Lardo. She opened a door for him, and as Derek passed her, he saw the name Jeanette Glover engraved on the door.

The therapist he had seen whilst at Andover had the policy that his clients could choose where they wanted to sit, so Derek ignored the chairs in the middle of the room and slumped onto a couch. Jeanie paused. Her raised eyebrow told Derek that Will usually opted for a chair. (Typical. Straight-backed and proper, like he’s at a meeting with his academic advisor or somebody.) She said nothing, however, as she moved a box of Kleenex from the desk to the coffee table in front of Derek, and turned one of the chairs around so that she could sit across from him.

“What’s on your mind, today?”

Derek bit back a snort. What was on his fucking mind? He was sat here in his ex-boyfriend’s body, in his ex-boyfriend’s therapist’s office, because his ex-boyfriend went to _therapy_ and Ransom and Holster _knew,_ and he couldn’t say anything because one word out of his mouth and this therapist would have him committed to a psychiatric ward.

“Dex? Anything you say to me stays in this room, remember.”

“Unless you think I’m a danger to myself or others,” Derek muttered.

Silence dragged out. Derek squeezed his fingers together and looked at Jeanie.

“Have you self-harmed?” she asked.

Derek jolted at the bluntness, and his arms crossed as his hands flew up to his biceps where he knew Will had two identical scars. Will claimed they were from an accident on the lobster boat when he was sixteen, but for Derek that had never explained why they were so perfectly alike in the same place on opposite arms. Jeanie’s expression remained blank. “Recently,” she added in a calm voice. Derek’s breath hitched. Did that mean his suspicions were true?

“No.” His voice cracked on the word.

“And have you tried to harm anybody else?”

“No.”

“Then I will take any thoughts you may have as simply that. Thoughts. We both know your diagnosis, Dex. If I tried to take every thought you brought into this room at face value, then I wouldn’t be doing you much justice.”

Derek frowned at Will’s pristine sneakers. He didn’t know how long this session was supposed to last but he could hardly sit here in silence the whole time, could he? “Have you ever seen Freaky Friday?”

“The Jodie Foster one or the Lindsay Lohan one?”

“Either. The film doesn’t matter, it's the plot. Two people are in a fight with each other, unable to see each other’s point of view, when magical forces make them switch places. Someone could be sat here, in your office, looking and sounding like William Poindexter, but not actually be William Poindexter.”

At least the look on Jeanie’s face didn’t suggest that she was about to go back on her word and start looking for somewhere which would take him as an inpatient, but the clock on the wall ticked too loudly, and when Derek shifted, the cushions squeaked against the leather. Still she said nothing. She gestured for him to pass her the clipboard which sat forgotten next to him on the couch, and he saw her lips pull into a thin line when she saw how he had filled it in.

“How about we set the agenda for today’s session?” She said. “I’ll put Freaky Friday on here, shall I?”

Derek stared at the table between them, and nodded once. Set an agenda? How long would he be here?

“Have you thought of any other issues you’d like to discuss?”

He wasn't sure what to say. There was nothing he could talk about because he shouldn’t be here, and he didn’t want to invade Will's privacy any further.

“Okay,” she said, unbothered by his lack of response. “Last week we talked about your compulsions to count and to try to restore symmetry at work. How has it been this week?”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“Have you had many instances of not feeling like a customer’s groceries were even enough?”

“Uh. A couple, I guess?” Damn, he was straight up lying, now. Pretending to be Will; pretending to have his mental illness; pretending to know what issue Jeanie described.

“And how did you respond?”

Derek hunched his shoulders around his ears. How Will was supposed to respond, he didn’t know, and he felt the same pooling fear in his stomach as had hit him the morning before.

“Will. Is everything still okay with your job?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. I— I still have the job if that’s what you mean.”

“Then whatever else happened is okay. It’s in the past. If you gave into compulsions, that doesn’t make you a bad person. Do you want another week of practising the exercises I showed you, or would you like to try something different?”

Derek swallowed. “Another week.” Will could deal with it next week, that way.

“Okay. And remember you can always email or text me during the week if you need any help or advice.”

Derek bit down on his bottom lip and nodded.

She scanned down one of the files in front of her. “Another follow-up from last week—”

“Can we— Sorry. Uh, for interrupting. But can we put all of last week’s stuff on hold for next week? It was just a funny week. And this Freaky Friday thing—” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Tell me about that.”

“My friend. Old friend. Uh, Nursey.” Derek frowned. He wasn’t sure how to explain this.

“You mean Derek? Your ex-boyfriend?”

Well that made it easier.

“Yeah. Him. We haven’t talked that much since breaking up, and not at all since summer started. And then. Ugh.”

“Perhaps it would help to explain to me where you’re going with this? Did you want to do an exercise of thinking from Derek’s point of view, or are you obsessing about swapping bodies with him, or is there another angle?”

“I— I guess the second?”

“Okay. Now a thought like that, even if it’s not a thought you can act on, is still an intrusive thought and can be treated in the same way.”

“What if it’s not an intrusive thought?”

She frowned at him. “Believing yourself to be in someone else’s body… That would be a distorted sense of reality. We can practise some methods for grounding yourself. The easiest would be your memories. Things you know that only William Poindexter would remember.”

Derek rubbed at his legs. Right. She wasn’t going to believe him. “Okay.”

She smiled. “Tell me about Jess. Something happy.”

_Fuck._

“Oh. Uh.” Derek cast his mind around for anything Will had said about his sister in the past. “I don’t— She wanted to be the first in the family to go abroad somewhere that wasn’t Canada or army related. She always said our Aunt was the first to leave New England, and I would be the first to go to college, and—” Derek frowned. He couldn’t remember what Will had said Dan would be the first to do, but it had no doubt been rude, so he shook his head and let it go. “And she wanted to be the first to go to Europe.”

“She wouldn’t have taken you with her?”

The corners of Derek’s mouth twitched as he remembered asking the same question. “The second time, sure.”

“This week, I want you to write down memories such as that. Anything which might help remind you that you’re still you. Then when you start to doubt that, you have something to hold onto.”

Derek bit his lip. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“If you’re starting to experience a distorted sense of reality, then we may have to talk to Dr Rogers about your prescription, or explore another diagnosis.”

“No, I— Shit, no that’s not— I’m not psychotic.”

Except he _is._ Derek gripped onto his jeans. Maybe this was all just him. He had been slipping towards mania recently, and that’s why his ma had persuaded him to go back onto Seroquel, but what if it wasn’t working? Or what if he had missed a dosage? Maybe now he was trapped in a psychotic split. It had never been this bad before, but things could be this bad, surely? Where he genuinely thought he was in Will’s body, in Samwell. Maybe his brain had sent him to a therapist because that’s what he needed. Will was back in Maine, working the lobster boat as he should be, and Derek was in Pittsburgh, or maybe back in Manhattan, stuck in a dream which felt so real he had been tricked into believing it.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Dex. Will, you’re okay.”

Jeanie was crouched in front of him, a hand outreached in case he needed it, but not touching him.

“Focus on my breathing. In, one, two, three—”

The summer had been too long. He was in a bad place, and felt isolated from his friends. Chowder had been treating him more and more as if he were made of glass, and the less Derek told him, out of fear of putting him in the middle of him and Will, the less they seemed to have to talk about. Over FaceTime, Chowder would chatter about his holidays, or about NHL news, or about the string of development camps he had been invited to, but Derek had little to say back, and their conversations had started to grow stilted. Ransom and Holster texted him occasionally, but they were busy with work, so it wasn’t often. Tango had sent a message about being up in New York for a weekend, but Derek had been in Detroit, visiting his sister. He hadn’t heard from any of the tadpoles beside that one text, and some group chat conversations. Lardo sent him memes, and Bitty had sent him a care package of some vegan baking he’d been practising, but his Twitter indicated that the members of the team who could have milk had received more. Derek understood. He knew it was nothing to be jealous about, and that Bitty including him in his cooking had always been more than Derek could have asked for, but…

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m staying right here in this office, but I’m going to get you some water. Keep breathing, Will. It will be over soon. You’ll get through this. One, two, three—”

Fuck, he just missed everyone so much. That was it. He missed everyone, and his brain was messed up, and he missed Will so this was his brain’s way of trying to feel close to Will, but because he had only been to his house in Maine once, he couldn’t construct a reality around being there. He didn’t know Will’s foster family well enough, or what he did from day to day. At Samwell, he was in a familiar place, and seeing familiar places. It explained why Ransom and Holster had been distant, if they had been looking after Will, and even though Derek knew this wasn’t real — this _couldn’t_ be real — it eased his mind to think Will had people there for him. Even though he didn’t _really._

“—Five, six, seven— Keep breathing, Will. That’s it. You’re doing great. It will be over soon.”

“I need to—” Derek grabbed her hand to pull himself to his feet. Water splashed over his feet and a plastic cup bounced off the floor.

“Do you want to go outside for a moment?”

Derek nodded. He couldn’t be here any longer. He shouldn’t be here. He needed to find his way back to reality.

His breathing evened out into Ransom’s shoulder. The gentle circles on his back calmed him, and Holster’s attempt to be soft instead of booming as he talked to Jeanie brought a smile to Derek’s face.

“I miss you so much, Rans.”

“Miss me? I— You mean while we were in Cape Cod?”

“I just miss you so much. I miss everyone. This summer sucks so much. Nobody talks to me anymore.”

Ransom hugged him tight enough that Derek could feel his face scrunching into a frown. “You’re babbling, Dex. You’re not— We’re always here for you, bro. Always. Are you sure you don’t want to go back in? There’s still about ten minutes of the session left, and I think it would be good for you. You don’t want to associate the office with panic.”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t want—” He tightened his grip on Ransom’s shirt.

“It’s okay,” Jeanie said. “If he wants to have an extra session before next Friday, or if there’s anything else he needs, call me, or get him to. There are some 24/7 helplines, too.”

“Thanks,” Holster said, taking a card off her as Ransom pulled on Derek so that they could walk back out to the car.

“Have you talked to Meg this week?” Ransom asked after ten minutes of silent driving.

Derek jumped, then sat back in confusion, trying to figure out who Meg was.

“You said she wanted to see if she could borrow a car to drive down to Samwell? Maybe bring Chloë, if she can?”

 _Right._ Meg and Chloë. Will’s foster sisters. Derek shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her.”

Ransom squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll see them eventually. And it’s only a month until the team will be back at Samwell. That will go so fast, I promise you.”

Ransom and Holster insisted on staying at the Haus for the afternoon, playing Mario Kart and watching Golden Girls and eating Chinese takeout and popcorn. Derek finally forced them out before they could start discussing more food, feigning a headache. It had been hard enough to order a vegetable dish from the Chinese without them asking questions. He didn’t want the same ordeal again.

“You could stay with us tonight,” Ransom suggested. “If you don’t want to be alone.”

“I have work tomorrow.” Even if he wasn’t sure what was going on, or if it was real, he had to carry on as if it were real. He couldn’t let Will down.

“Or we could stay here.”

“Guys, please. Go home. I want to go to bed early. I’ll be fine.”

Ransom frowned. “Okay. We’ll see you on Monday, after work, anyway. Do you still want a lift?”

Derek frowned “A— Oh shit. Jack and Bitty’s barbecue.”

Holster shook his head. “Bro, Bitty would be so disappointed you forgot. It’s all he’s talked about in weeks.”

“Yeah. No, I’ll— I don’t know about a lift. I might have one. I’ll— We’ll see what happens.” Will would drive to Samwell. Or if they swapped back, he would himself. They needed to talk.

“What? You might have a lift from who?”

“I’ll— I’ll just let you know if I need one, okay? Assume I don’t.”

It was a huge relief to close the door behind them, cut off their follow-up questions with a slam, and collapse against the wall. Derek let out a shaky breath, and let tears trickle down his cheeks. This was supposed to be a look into each other’s lives so that they could understand each other’s point of view, but instead Derek felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and he was questioning himself more than Will. The things Will had kept from him weren’t his to find out this way. Things like his therapy sessions, and the reason behind those symmetrical scars on his arms, and him coming out to Ransom and Holster. Derek would have liked to know about them, and he felt hurt that Will had stayed quiet about them, but they weren’t things he had needed to know. If Will wanted some secrets, that was his right.

Everything was so confusing, though. Derek didn’t know what to think, or what he should be doing.

He scrambled to his feet, and was halfway up the stairs before he knew what he was searching for. Derek pulled the drawer out of the only desk currently in their room (they would need a second desk, and _fuck_ he should have asked Ransom and Holster to take him to IKEA while they were already halfway to Stoughton). He pulled out notes and folders and everything until he found them: the lists which had caused the rift which triggered the fight which led to dibs which resulted in—

He spread them out on the floor, pushing the ones which weren’t relevant any more out of the way, until the most important were in front of him. The ‘head lists’ the Samwell Counselors had got Will to make. Lists of issues he obsessed over, of situations he was worried about. Lists which mapped out the potential outcomes his brain told him those situations had. He had to make ‘heart lists’, too. Those were the more logical ones. They explained the outcomes as he knew, deep down in his gut, were most likely, instead of these in front of Derek now which had all the negativity and catastrophizing that Will’s OCD led him to.

What he wanted wasn’t here, though.

He pulled the notes apart, again, and rifled through Will’s wallet, pulling out the heart lists which corresponded to them. Not all of them were there, but he couldn’t find them in the desk drawer, so Will must have started to get rid of the ones which had come to pass. He emptied the filing cabinet, and leafed through the contents, pausing when he came across a long ‘to read’ list of books about racism and discrimination and Black history. Eighty percent of them were crossed out.

The room was covered in pieces of paper when Derek finally found it.

 

_Derek._

_Cons_

_He wants me to fix him (he makes me feel like he needs fixing. He doesn’t need fixing. He’s perfect. But he maybe needs therapy, but how do you tell someone they need therapy? Especially someone who’s had therapy before)_

_As someone exploring his sexuality, and who thrives off support from other people, it’s not good for him to be in a relationship which has to be kept secret. Until I come out, he shouldn’t be in a relationship with me. It was destroying him._

_I need to get better first. I need to be able to ignore the voices telling me I’m going to ruin him, or I should break up with him etc. By the end, they were all I could think about all day. It’s not fair on him._

_I don’t deserve his forgiveness for ignoring his needs_

 

_Pros_

_We’re living together_

_I love him_

~~_I_ ~~

~~_We_ ~~

~~_He_ ~~

 

The worst thing was that it didn’t help. Knowing all the reasons why Will had justified breaking up with him, knowing that it was mostly about their mental health, and seeing it written down in black and white, didn’t help Derek to understand. Tears still streaming down his face, he pulled Will’s phone from his pocket.

 

>  
> 
> **Derek Nurse**  
>    
>  2:16pm  
>  Shit, I’m sorry. I was so tired last night, I completely forgot that no work on Fridays means therapy. I hope it wasn’t too hard?

Derek tried not to think about why he would have missed the message at that time, considering the session with Jeanie started at half past eleven.

 

>  
> 
> 7.23pm  
>  **William Poindexter's phone:** Can we skype now?  
>  **Derek Nurse:** I’m sorry! C just FaceTimed me.  
>  **Derek Nurse:** You.  
>  **Derek Nurse:** We can talk in a bit?

Derek sighed. If Chowder had only just called, it would be a couple of hours before Will was ready to call him, unless he cut it short for Derek’s sake, and Derek already felt bad over how much he had been distracted during conversations with Chowder recently.

 

>  
> 
>   
>  **William Poindexter's phone:** No, it's okay, I'm just going to eat and get an early night  
>  **William Poindexter's phone:** Talk to you tomorrow 

He didn’t go back downstairs for food, but instead curled up in bed and pulled Will’s blanket tight around him, wishing that he had Tigger to cuddle. How he could switch fucking bodies with Will and yet feel more isolated from him than ever, Derek had no idea. Lying in the Haus, which was too quiet with nobody else around, he felt just as lonely as he had all summer, and though he knew there were plenty of people nearby — much closer geographically than they had been when he was in New York — he couldn’t reach out to them. Not as long as they thought he was Will. Derek wrapped his arms around a pillow, and wiped tears and snot on it. Tomorrow would be better.

_Tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be roughly twice a week from here on out!
> 
> Triggers  
> Nursey discovers that Dex told Ransom and Holster about their relationship and is upset because he has felt so lonely all summer with so few people to talk to honestly.  
> He goes to a therapy session meant for Dex. The therapist remains convinced she is talking to Dex, and as a result does reveal some sensitive and confidential information to Nursey, including implying that Dex self-harmed on at least one occasion in the past.  
> Nursey becomes worried that the therapist will institutionalize him. A mention of changing medication then triggers a paranoia that he is stuck in a psychotic split. He has a panic attack and leaves the therapy session early. Ransom and Holster look after him.  
> Later, his feelings of loneliness return when Dex is unable to return his call immediately.


	4. Day Three (Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dex finishes the prospect camp for Nursey, and makes his way to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter triggers: food/diet issues and worries, racism, airport security, mentioned past family death, past forceable outing, estrangement from family, mentions of self-harm and self-harm ideation.

It was the final day of the Penguin’s prospect camp, and Will had officially completed more of it than Derek. They had the morning off before the three-on-three competition which would close the week that afternoon, but Will had already been to the Sports Complex that morning to drop off his bags after checking out of the hotel. He took a Lyft into Pittsburgh so he could explore, but he ended up sat in Five Guys, sipping on a Coke while he scrolled up the short conversation with Derek from the previous night. He felt bad, because if there had been anyone he wanted to talk to, it was Derek, but letting Chowder worry would have been a bad idea, too. Although, he might not have prevented that as well as he hoped, because Chowder had been acting peculiar when they talked. Will had never seen him so cautious, or so aware of his words. It didn’t make any sense.

> **Dexy**  
>    
>  7.25pm  
>  **Nursey's phone:** Goodnight!  
>    
>  8.53pm  
>  **Nursey's phone:** Just finished with C if you want to Skype?  
>    
>  10.00pm  
>  **Nursey's phone:** Goodnight, Derek and good luck for tomorrow  
>    
>  Saturday, July 2nd 10.58am  
>  **Nursey's phone:** I don't know if I've missed both your breaks but how's hell Saturday going?

He chewed on his lip, staring at the message as it sent. He was tempted to find an emoji of an olive branch to add on, because he was fairly certain Derek was upset with him for not giving him a heads up about Jeanie, and then for not talking it through with him afterwards. Still, he couldn’t let himself get worked up about it now, and at least if Derek didn’t reply straight away he could assume it was because Will's phone was in his work locker. 

He flipped onto the Safari app and searched for a vegan restaurant where he could have a substantial lunch. After squinting at the online menus of three places, he decided on one of them, and also that Derek could do with glasses. Halfway to the restaurant, Derek’s phone beeped. 

> **Dexy**  
>    
>  11.11am  
>  y do so many people want to shop this early on a sat  
>  semester hasn't even started

Will grinned and hit the call button.

“It's chaos, Will, oh my God,” Derek started. “There's three people off sick and someone on holiday or something and I don't even know if that's all but we've still got… what is it they call it? Priority? That's still on the floor and — ”

“Holy shit, you're still working priority? Man, Saturdays suck. And like you said, there's not even the students here yet.”

“I didn’t know there were this many people in Samwell.”

“It’s always hard when people are off. Nobody’s ever going to work a Saturday that’s not their normal weekend to work, and you just get stuck on the register and never get anything done.”

“Sucks. And what the  _ fuck,  _ why is this break already nearly over?”

“It’s never enough. But only a few hours to go.”

“Yeah. I can do this.”

Will spotted the restaurant across the road, and crossed over to it, a smile playing on his lips. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll talk to you later? I’ll be on the ice when you finish and then it’s a rush to the airport so — oh, well, I guess you already know that. If I get a chance I’ll call when I’m through security, anyway. Or it’ll be when I’m in New York.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Promise?” Derek asked tentatively.

Will winced. All was clearly not forgiven for yesterday. “I promise. You can think about what you want me to bring up to Samwell with me.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Derek.” The sentence felt insufficient, like he should be tacking on a ‘Love you,’ or a ‘I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, and finally be able to touch you again,’ but they hadn’t talked about touching each other, even if all Will wanted was to be able to hold Derek and hug him and tell him that it was alright, that he couldn’t explain the therapy sessions, but he was sorry for how Derek had found out. He was sorry for everything. “You still haven’t hung up.”

“Neither have you,” Derek pointed out.

“I just — ” He let out a sigh.

“Yeah.”

Will kicked at a pebble beneath his foot. “This is so messed up.”

Derek’s breath hitched. “I — I don’t think I can go back down right now. I just — Just tell me anything.”

“Uh, so we’ve got the morning off, so I came to explore Pittsburgh. I’ve just found somewhere to have lunch, so I’m hanging outside there at the moment. It’s not the cheapest place, but I looked at the menu online and it at least looks like I can get some vegan macros. Which is good. I’m fucking starving. Food is so hard.”

“I told you you could eat meat.”

Will frowned. “I can’t, though. That’s not — I just couldn’t, okay? I — I ate egg.”

“Me too. It tastes better in your body.”

Will snorted. “Ch’yeah.”

“And I had milk.”

“See that’s what’s making it hard more than the meat, I think. Having to be so  _ careful,  _ and even then, the place I’ve found for lunch is vegan so I guess that’s okay? Except you can still get milk proteins in some really weird things I’ve found so maybe there’ll still be contamination, and it was  _ okay  _ in the diner the other day but the whole time I was worried, like what if those fries had been cooking next to cheeseburgers or something?”

“Will. You know I’m not  _ that  _ badly allergic, right? Like, the epipen is a precautionary thing I’ve had to use exactly once in my life because antihistamines usually do the trick until I can get to the hospital to check I’m okay. I don't normally stress too hard about contamination.”

Will scratched the back of his hand. “I don’t want to accidentally  _ kill  _ you. I don’t want to put you in hospital at all. I — I’m not going to promise not to worry.”

Derek only sighed in response, so Will tentatively asked, “How about you? You had milk and — ” He frowned. He didn’t know how to ask where Derek’s mental health was, when he wasn’t even sure how he felt, himself.

“Everything else is worse.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I — I just — I don’t know what we’re supposed to learn from this. I’ve invaded your privacy a horrible amount the past couple of days and I hate it.”

Will leaned his head against the wall and stared at a pigeon on the drainpipe of the building opposite. “It’s not your fault.”

Derek grunted in disbelief.

“I feel the same. It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t — I mean, it’s not like I can come away from this saying I have any experience with — ” He trailed off, cringing, and tried to rephrase. “You wished for us to see each other’s point of view, right? And maybe we’re seeing the world through each other’s eyes, but it’s still our thoughts in here. It’s still our memories and our — our — Your family is still yours, you know? I’ll go to your house tonight and your moms will fuss over me and treat me like their son, but I won’t know three quarters of the languages they’re throwing at me and your mom will probably want me to pray with her and I probably can’t learn what to do from the Internet between now and then. Right now, I’m walking around in your skin, and seeing how some people react to me because of it. I’m noticing shit I wouldn’t normally, but — But it’s not me experiencing it. I don’t have your culture, so I don’t — When people say racist shit, I’m pissed on your behalf, and yeah maybe I’m more aware of it right now but hopefully soon we’ll swap back and — ”

“Will.”

“ — when that happens, I’ll have only experienced a tiny percent of what you experience day to day, and none of it can be counted as  _ me  _ being oppressed, so I still don’t — ”

“ _ Will _ .”

“Yes?”

“You’re whitesplaining.”

Will bit down on his tongue and frowned at the pigeon, ruffling its feathers. “That’s not a word. I know I am. I’m sorry.”

“The language thing will only be an issue when you're with one of them alone. House rule: it's rude to talk in a language someone in the room doesn’t speak without good reason. Mostly we just stick to English. As for prayers, it’s Ramadan so there’s extra, but at least it should be dark by the time you get there, so you can eat and then say you’re going to catch up on missed prayers and call me. We’ll figure the rest out then.”

“Okay. I… I thought you were supposed to fast in Ramadan.”

“Not when travelling. And I wouldn’t during development camps even if I wasn’t travelling for them. Look, I’ve got to go before I lose you your job. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Love you,” Will said, pulling the phone away to hang up, but his grip tightened when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line and realized what he had said. “I mean — I — Fuck.”

The line went dead.

Pigeon crap splattered over the window of the store across the road.

* * *

Despite his early lunch, by the time he had eaten his way through three main meals and a few sides to feed the appetite the prospect camp had worked up, it was time for Will to head back to the training center for a lengthy brief to the three-on-three competition. It was the final event of the camp and Will’s last chance to show that Derek had earned his place there.

Will was used, now, to the crass comments the prospects made, whether it be homophobic slurs thrown across the locker room or misogyny in their on-ice chirps. He tried not to think about how easy it was to pretend he was back in high school and let the words roll off him. Before Derek, Will had been just as oblivious as these guys as to how harmful such words could be, and a part of him wanted to snap — to tell them why they shouldn't talk like that, just as Derek had with him — but another part of him found it too easy to shrug it off and avoid the confrontation. That was better, he reckoned, because some of them were still holding out for him to get into a fight and Will wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He had eventually worked it out, though afterwards he was frustrated that he hadn’t seen it sooner. After all his research and reading, he should have known why the cruel chirps and harsher checks were different to the adolescent taunts which once incensed him. Where Will had been an easy target who reacted strongly and with quick fists, the attacks against Derek were clearly motivated by something less deep.

Something skin deep.

Will wanted to throw up anytime he found himself the object of their insults. He wanted to scream that what they were doing wasn’t okay, and couldn’t they see how racist they were being. He thought of Derek hearing such words time and time again, so much that now he seemed numb to them. Logically, Will knew that wasn’t the case; that Derek’s chill was carefully manufactured. He also knew that this was a situation where, if he called them out, they were more likely to laugh it off, or to turn nasty, than they were to accept that they had done something wrong. The last thing Will wanted was to turn Derek into a spectacle or a press item. He chewed on his tongue and pushed through, focusing on his game to distract himself.

* * *

When the game was over, he barely sat still for the debrief, then hightailed it out with the excuse of catching his flight before he could be collared by press or by fellow prospects looking for a final party. It was a good job he had, as well, because checking Derek’s hockey bag in took a lot longer than Will expected. He wasn’t sure what took the woman so long to accept it, or the meaning behind the suspicious glances she threw him, but he brushed it off and carried on to security.

* * *

“What are these?”

Will had never had his carry on bag opened up after it had gone through the X-ray machine before, but he tried to keep an impassive face as he replied. “Xanax. It's got my prescription there on the bottle.”

“And this?”

“My epipen. I'm allergic to milk.”

It was a good job Derek’s other medicines were in the hold luggage, Will decided. The security guard took all too much care analysing the prescription labels for any signs that they may not be genuine. There wasn't a subtle way for Will to check the time, so he had to feign patience, even when he was asked for his passport and boarding pass. It was the third time already, and he wasn’t even at the gate.

“Is New York your final destination today?”

“Yes, sir, I live in Manhattan.”

The security guard studied the passport again. When he handed it back, it was with no comment other than “Have a good journey.” Will wanted to roll his eyes at the lack of sincerity, but instead he dropped his head, put his shoes back on and repacked his bag in silence.

It surprised him to get to the departure lounge and discover that his flight was already boarding. Security had taken a lot longer than he had anticipated. He power walked in the direction the signs pointed, and joined a dwindling queue. He felt tense as he approached the gate. By this point he wouldn't be surprised if his passport was scrutinised again, and it made him feel queasy. Will wondered if Derek’s nerves when flying had more to do with the airport staff than the plane's distance from the ground.

He carefully manoeuvred himself so that he would end up showing his boarding pass to a Black stewardess, because maybe that would help avoid the fuss, and forced himself to breathe evenly.

His heart beat twice as fast by the time he settled into his seat on the plane and, though Will could feel some stares from nearby passengers, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore them. Whether he was worked up from the journey through the airport, or Derek’s body was having an automatic reaction to being on a plane, he wasn’t sure, but he pulled the pack of Xanax out his bag, and stopped a steward, who was closing an overhead locker.

“Could I get some water to take my medication, please?”

“Sure thing.”

He tapped his fingers against his thigh. Hopefully, the pill would kick in soon, but as Derek generally took Xanax to take the edge off his mania that Seroquel didn’t help with and help him sleep, Will had never been given much idea of how long it took to reduce anxiety.

“What's wrong with you?”

Will glanced across the aisle to see a girl of about four or five staring at him. Her mother jumped and looked at her as well, then shot Will a suspicious look.

“Chloë, don't bother the man.”

“It's okay,” Will hastened to say. “My sister's called Chloë. She's a bit younger than you, though.”

“Where is she?” Chloë asked. 

The smile which had appeared on Will's face when he'd heard the girl's name faltered. “She's at home. In Maine.”

Chloë’s face pulled into a frown. “Is that why you're tapping your leg like that? My auntie does that when she's upset. Do you miss your sister?”

“Oh, I… Well I do but I live a long way from her now so I miss her all the time.” He supposed that was a statement which applied to many sisters, not just Chloë but also Meg up at his former foster home in Maine, and Derek’s sister who lived in Detroit, as well as Will's actual sister who… well he was pretty certain he believed in heaven.

Will swallowed away thoughts of Jess, and plastered on a neutral expression. “I don't like flying,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Chloë, please,” implored her mother.

“It's very high off the ground and I don't like heights.” Except Will himself was perfectly fine with flying and talking to Chloë had calmed him down from the adrenaline rush from earlier.

“Why fly if you don't like it?”

Will smiled. “Because I had to go to Pittsburgh but it was quicker to fly than drive and now I need to go home because I miss my boy — My friend.” He coughed awkwardly. That slip up hurt.

“What about — ”

“Chloë,” her mother cut in sharply. “Leave the man alone. Would you like a coloring book?”

* * *

Anika Nurse chattered in Gujarati from the moment she had pulled him into a hug at the arrival gates until they were in the car. She seemed perfectly content with him not responding, given that he didn’t get a word in edgeways until they were crossing the bridge to Manhattan island, when her torrent of words halted, and she asked, “Daruk?”

Will jerked. “Huh? Oh. Sorry. I — I'm tired. Busy couple of days.”

She hummed. “Like I said. You haven't eaten properly. How are you supposed to have energy if you're that skinny?”

Will nodded and stared out the window at the city lights and neon bar signs.

“You can sleep late tomorrow. I'll tell your mom you're not fit to be up before dawn.”

“No. I'm driving up to Samwell.”

“What? Why?”

“I — I have to sort something out.”

Anika made a strange noise at the back of her throat. “Is this about that boy?”

Will's hand twitched. “Ma…”

“You don't let that boy hurt you any more.”

When Will had gone to New York at Christmas, the Nurses had been so kind to Will, and treated him as if he were their own son. To hear Anika talk about him with such venom in her voice made his chest hurt, but that was nothing compared to hearing how much he had hurt Derek. “He doesn’t want me to be hurt, either. I just have to — ” Will choked. He wanted to cry, but his eyes stung and stayed dry. “I love him. I have to try and fix this.”

“I know you love him, but I don't want you to get your hopes up and get hurt again. You're not the only one who should be trying to fix it if it's going to be fixed.”

Will wiped his hands on his jeans. “He wants to fix it too. Or at least for us to figure something out before we’re living together. But I think… I think we’re ready to give us another try.” He was ready, anyway, if Derek would have him. Will’s stomach tightened. He had a lot to do to redeem himself, and yet there was nothing he could do to deserve Derek’s forgiveness.

The car parked up behind the Toyota Prius that Will knew Derek had bought after Dieselgate had hit his Passat. He frowned at the back of it. There was no way Derek would have put his name on the insurance for this car, so technically he shouldn’t drive it, but it was the best way to get up to Samwell the next morning. Of course, nobody would be able to prove he wasn’t Derek Nurse, but Will still didn’t like the idea of it. He’d been on the insurance for the Passat since September of their frog year, when Derek had added him in case of emergencies such as hospital visits, and because at the time they were dormmates and it seemed like the prudent thing to do. They were going to be roommates again, but Will doubted Derek would have wanted to think about including his ex-boyfriend on his insurance.

Anika pulled Will into a hug, and massaged her fingers into Derek’s hair. “I hope you’re right, babo,” she told him. “You come home straight away if you’re not, though, you hear me? Don’t stay there and let yourself get hurt more.”

Will felt himself leaning into her despite himself, his face buried in her shoulder as she brushed a kiss across his temple. “Okay.”

“Okay. Come on. Your mom’s cooking.”

Xo Nurse met Will at the door to the kitchen with a tight hug. It was warm and felt like home in a way Will realized he had sorely missed. “Hi baby,” she muttered into his ear. He could feel her frowning against his cheek and he wondered if the way he had wrapped his arms around her was too clingy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Food’s ready.” She pulled away, pressing a kiss to his temple as she did.

While Anika had an ordinary portion of the rice and bean casserole for dinner, Xo served herself the extra large portion of someone ending a day of fasting, and Will found himself staring at even more food, piled high and wide and a baguette on the side for extra carbs. He almost choked when Xo told him, “There's more if you want it.”

Of course it made sense, he reasoned. He could eat meat and wash it down with a milk-made protein shake. Derek needed the same amount of protein from plant products.

“Derek.”

He looked up. Xo held out a handful of dates. When he took them, she said a prayer in Arabic, starting slowly as if she expected him to join in, but she didn’t stop when he didn't. He followed her cue to eat the dates, and then there was a short silence.

“How was the camp?” Xo asked.

Will let himself breathe. Maybe it wasn’t so strange. “It was okay. I don't know. It's a much higher standard than I'm used to.”

“Do you think they were impressed?”

“By me? I — I don't know. I think there were other people they were a lot more interested in.”

The two women exchanged a look.

“Derek is going to Samwell tomorrow,” Anika said. “To see Will.”

“He didn’t go home for the summer?”

Will’s hesitated. He could tell them the truth so easily, and he wanted to in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. These two women had accepted him into their family seamlessly six months ago and had been quicker to act like mothers to him in those four days than any of his foster parents across eight years. They loved Derek, and by extension had loved his boyfriend, despite him pushing Derek back into the closet and not being worthy of him.

“He can't go home,” he choked out. His throat had closed and his eyes were stinging. “He — They kicked him out. His brother outed him and — ”

Anika muttered something in Gujarati which sounded like an expletive followed by a string of endearments. “Why didn’t you say?”

All the bullshit excuses he had given himself for not telling Derek flashed through his mind. “I — I didn’t — ”

“When did you find out, baby?”

Will swallowed when he caught the mix of pity and concern in Xo’s eyes. Now he had to lie, but at least he could try and answer with what he was sure was the truth for Derek. Everything Jeanie was bound to have talked to Derek about in mind, he dropped his eyes to his lap and replied, “Yesterday.”

Xo took a mouthful of casserole, so Will copied, finally digging into his food with enthusiasm.

“When he's feeling vulnerable isn't the time to start a relationship,” said Anika.

Xo shook her head. “But of course he has to be with him. That boy needs his friends around him.”

“And Derek doesn’t? He's been alone all summer. They should be checking up on him, not expecting him to be the one to look after Will!”

Will nearly choked on his food as he tried to swallow too quickly. “M — Ma. It's not like that. They don't know. And that's not why I'm going, I'm going because I love him and he loves me and there's a lot we need to talk about.”

“Daruk…”

“Anika,” Xo cut in. “It's his choice. Will you be home for Eid al-Fitr?”

Will dropped his fork and rubbed his hand on his jeans, inconspicuously under the table, wishing he had some clue as to when Eid was this year. “I'm not sure. I'll try to be.”

“Let me know. Your uncle's coming.”

An involuntary smile crept onto Will's face. He had never met Derek’s uncle, but he'd heard enough about him to know that Derek adored him, and that even though they saw each other a few times a year it never felt often enough. Derek would be over the moon to get to see him. “He is?”

Xo smiled back at him. “If you're worried about Will, the more the merrier. Okay?”

The sudden switch back to him made Will's head hurt. He nodded and went back to his food, happy to let Anika change the topic to Leila’s plans for the end of Ramadan.

After food, Will slipped upstairs while Derek’s moms were loading the dishwasher. He dropped Derek’s bags by the foot of the bed and dropped onto the mattress, already tapping in the first digits of his number.

“Hey you.”

Will melted into Derek’s pillows. Even he wasn’t used to hearing his own voice so soft and fond. “Hi.”

“I love you too.”

“I thought — ”

“I've been thinking about it all day.”

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

There was a pause before Derek tentatively asked, “Because it isn't true?”

“No,” Will sighed. “Because it is true but it isn't fair for me to tell you that when I've treated you like crap.”

“Will — ”

“You shouldn't feel like you have to forgive me. Me telling you I love you sounds like — I don't know. Like that's that's a reason for you to forgive me or something. But it's not.”

“I can't talk about this over the phone. We need to talk about a lot before we're there, you know? The therapy, and why we're here and what we need to do to make it work a second time. I'm still happy to hear you still love me, though, because I love you too and this way at least we have a chance to work things out.”

Will stared at the plush tiger sat on Derek’s bed. “I — Yeah, I guess. Um. So you don't want to talk about any of that until I'm there?”

“Not over the phone, no.”

“I… I guess it's just what you want me to bring, then? Tigger and your blanket, obviously. Medication.”

“Sunday is the day I take vitamin B12,” Derek cut in.

“Medication and vitamins. What else?”

“If there's any double bed sheets Mom can give you, I've still been making do with single ones and blankets. iPad and Mac. Some decent clothes, not just all the plaid I never gave back to you.”

Will rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll pack your hipster clothes.”

“That’s it, I think? The normal stuff. Shampoo and conditioner. Moisturizer. God, Poindexter, we need to talk about moisturizer.”

“Uh… why?”

“You didn’t have any! I can't believe I had to buy William ‘showers at least five times a day’ Poindexter moisturizer. Your poor skin, fucking hell.”

“I'm only allowed to shower two times a day or a third when playing hockey. Jeanie wants me to cut one of those out by the end of my CBT, too.”

Derek huffed. “Poindexter, you're not listening to me. You still should be moisturizing. Your skin is rubbed raw. And I had to turn the shower down too because it's at a ridiculous setting and I’m saying that as someone in your actual fucking skin so you can't argue that you just like it hotter than me. I felt like you had it set to try and scald your skin right off.”

Will pulled Tigger against his chest and hugged the toy. He clutched at Derek’s phone until his knuckles hurt. “Yeah.” Sometimes that’s all he wanted, was to boil the bad off him, but he couldn’t say that. It was too irrational.

“Moisturizer, Will. Twice a day.”

Will wiped under one of his eyes, but it was still dry. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Derek repeated softly. “I — I’ll see you tomorrow. I called in sick. I know you didn’t want me to, but I want to be there for you to get there and — I don’t know. Today was — I just don’t want to be thinking about work instead of us sorting this out so I told them I’d been sick.”

Another day, Will might have been exasperated by Derek making a decision like that, but he knew how horrible Saturdays could be, and how many times he had gone home on a Saturday night not wanting to go back the next day. He’d also heard Derek’s parents talking about the loneliness of the summer, which made sense of the way Chowder had spoken on FaceTime the night before. Will wouldn’t be surprised if Derek had isolated himself the moment he left Samwell. The most surprising part was that his medication implied a concern that he was slipping towards mania, rather than depression. Either way, he couldn’t be upset with him. He was just glad that Derek would be there when he got to the Haus the next day.

“I’ll stop at Jerry’s then and bring you breakfast.”

Derek hummed in surprise.

“See you tomorrow.”

“I — Yeah.” He still sounded surprised, but he cleared his throat and repeated, “See you tomorrow.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey's milk allergy is based on my dad's nut allergy. I have no idea if milk allergies can be this level of severity and still be called an allergy rather than an intolerance but my dad's allergy is this mild and yet is definitely an allergy?? he can tell straight away if he's had a fraction of a nut and he reacts straight away, but it's not a very severe reaction, and never a panic to get him to a doctor in time, so contamination is a very low concern.


	5. Day Four (Derek)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dex gets back to Samwell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter triggers: anxiety attack, conversations about anxiety, therapy and mental health in general, passing references to anti-Black violence (nothing explicit, and no specific incidents mentioned, but the conversation does trigger some anxiety for Nursey)

Derek had set an early alarm to give himself time to tidy up the mess he had created in the past few days but Will’s body woke up more slowly than his own so he was still yawning into a cup of tea when Will texted from Jerry’s. The mug tipped over in his rush to get up the stairs, and he swore when he looked around their bedroom at the sheets of paper still sprawled over the floor from Friday afternoon. He gathered them up and piled them on the desk as neatly as possible. Will's ‘Derek’ pros and cons list stared up at him from the top of the pile. Derek dropped into the chair, grabbed some spare paper from the paper tray and wrote across the top ‘Why we broke up’.

His pen hovered over the page with nothing else written when the front door opened.

“Hello?”

It was bizarre to hear his own voice drift up the stairs.

“Derek?”

There was a knock at the bedroom door, but Will didn’t wait for a response before he let himself in.

“Hey there. What are you — ”

Will’s hands came to rest on Derek’s shoulders (or, rather, the other way around).

“Oh.”

Derek looked up. His own green eyes were wide, staring at the paper.

“This is so weird,” Derek said. Will dug his thumbs into his shoulder blades.

“I know, Der, but why don't we start with what's happened the past few days before we get into the why this happened in the first place and why we broke up?”

They went back down to the kitchen where they dug into warm veggie breakfast burritos and drank their coffee in silence.

“I have to apologize,” Will said, when their breakfast had been demolished. “For lots of different things but firstly for messing up your chances with the Pens. I didn't play my best and you're the one who's going to be let down by it.”

Derek shook his head. “I didn’t want to play for the Pens. I never did and the day I had there only confirmed that.”

“Are you just saying that so I feel better?”

The question made Derek snort, because he had never pulled any punches around Will for the sake of feelings. It wasn’t their style, and they worked a lot better when they were frank with each other. 

“But even so,” Will said, slowly. “Other teams will have seen, and might write you off because of it.”

“NCAA player with two years left before signing gets nervous at first development camp? I don't think they'll be that worried.”

“Jack said — ”

A scoff caught in Derek’s throat as he tried to restrain it. It was true that Jack had said Derek might not need the full four years before the NHL would be looking to sign him (at least to the AHL), and Derek hadn’t made it any secret that he would ditch his degree if such an opportunity came along (unlike Chowder, whose most recent worry had been what he would do if he were given the choice between professional hockey and grad school). He wasn’t going to cling onto the idea, though, and he certainly wasn’t going to worry about it if he did end up at Samwell the full four years. That had been Plan A, after all. “Will. Maybe I’ll get signed, and maybe I won’t, but whether I do or not won’t be because of the past three days. It’s not like they looked at Parson’s peewee stats and ruled him out because he used to wobble on his skates. Hell, Jack got into the league after all the draft drama. The GMs know people improve. They know players get nervous and mess up sometimes. I’m sure they’ve even seen people struggling with hockey sticks they’re not used to, before. It’s okay.”

Derek watched Will shuffle in his seat. He clasped and unclenched his hands and his jaw tightened to the point where Derek mused whether he should book a dentist appointment.

“Spit it out, Will. What else do you think you’ve screwed up?”

“With your parents. I mean, well firstly they hate me so there's that.”

“They don't hate you.”

“And then there's the fact that they think you're acting hella weird.”

“Yo, I thought I’d swapped with Dex, not Chowder. Did you just say hella?”

Will rolled his eyes, but otherwise plowed on as if Derek hadn’t interrupted. “I could pass off not knowing what to do with the dates before dinner last night as being too tired to function, but high-tailing it out the house this morning? Your mom is concerned now. It was just your ma to begin with but now both of them know something’s up.”

“I don't think I'd have known what to do with the dates either. You can't break a fast you've not been honoring in the first place.”

“But you know the tradition and the prayer and you would have felt comfortable making a joke about how you didn’t know what to do.”

Derek inclined his head in acknowledgment. It wasn’t true at all that he would have been unsure what to do. At least, not in the way breaking the day's fast with three dates was foreign to Will. Sometimes it was tragic how sheltered Will was from other religions, to the point that Derek remembered him being surprised that there were Americans who didn't celebrate Christmas. Little details like that, however, and the prayers, were things Derek never would have expected Will to know. It was always going to be an issue, but Derek had faith that his parents weren’t as worried as Will thought. They knew he hadn’t been keeping Ramadan during the prospect camp, and his body looked thin enough after a few days intense exercise and poor diet that it wouldn't take much convincing for them to think him exhausted.

“They're moms so they're going to worry,” Derek said cautiously. “That doesn’t mean they'll jump to you being in my body, or that they'll start invading my privacy to find out what's going on.”

“I didn’t say — ”

“I know.”

Will smiled weakly. When he didn’t say anything more, Derek took a deep breath.

“You know — Talking of family. I — I’m still a little confused why you’re here, Will.”

“What do you mean? I’m here so we can figure this out.”

“In Samwell instead of Maine.”

Will's confusion was evident on Derek’s face. “You and Jeanie didn’t talk about it?”

“I was trying to avoid talking to your therapist at all so that I didn't find out anything else you didn't want me to know.”

Will stood. His hands splayed out on the table to hold himself firm. After a few deep breaths, he started to clear the table. “I wanted to tell you,” he said, when he was at the sink with his back to Derek. “I just got so anxious about it and when I knew I'd broken your heart — How could I tell you after that?”

“It's okay.”

Will shook his head. Derek waited for him to say something  — anything  — else. Will got a clean tea towel out of the drawer. Derek watched as he rinsed and wiped the soap suds off the plates. Every waking moment of his time in Will’s body had been a source of stress and confusion for him. He had questions now that he never would have thought he might need to ask, and he wasn’t sure where he could start, and what he was even allowed to ask. If there were certain things Will didn’t want to talk about, that was his right, but one lesson Derek had already learned from this experience was that their communication with each other hadn’t been as good as he always assumed when they were together. He thought back to Friday, and the trip to see Jeanie.

“You told Ransom and Holster.”

Will stared at the plate he had been about to put away. “It just happened. They’ve been lifesavers. But I’m sorry. I — It wasn’t just my thing to tell and I shouldn’t have — ”

“I’m not upset that you told them,” Derek said with a sigh. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I — I guess I’m a little upset that I didn’t know that you’d told them. You or one of them — I don’t know. I needed someone to talk to, too. And I couldn’t — I couldn’t out you, and I thought — ”

“Derek — ” Will’s voice was so small that it barely carried across the room.

“I know, okay? I know you’re going to tell me that I had Chowder and my family and — ”

“No, I wasn’t going to — I’m — ”

“But I couldn’t talk to them about anything either. Not in the same way. Well… Chowder… I don’t — ” Derek shook his head. A lump had returned to his throat, and his hands shook.

“I know, I was thinking about it after FaceTiming him. Has he been like that the whole time? Ever since I told him to make sure you had someone?”

“I — Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. You’re right. You deserved to have that, too, and not only did I keep it from you that there were two other people you could talk to without trying to censor yourself, but I made things weird between you and your best friend. It’s  _ C.  _ He wouldn’t have left you to struggle on your own if you needed someone, but I had to go and doubt him and make him overthink it.”

“I might have — I’ve been a bit of a shit friend recently,” Derek admitted. Will came to sit next to him, and when he cautiously reached out, Derek leaned into his chest. He tried not to think too hard about leaning against his own torso, or how it was his own arms curled around him. He felt like he fit, but it was a strange and different feeling to when he had leaned against Will in the past. Derek turned his head to press against Will, closing his eyes in the hope that not being able to see would keep him from feeling weird about it. He forced his thoughts onto the summer so far. “Those lists,” he said, quietly. “The pros and cons about us breaking up. You said I need therapy.”

Will sucked in a hiss of air. “Oh. No, don’t — You don’t have to pay any attention to that. I wrote that just after I’d broken up with you and was trying to convince myself it was the best thing.”

“You were right.”

Derek felt Will’s arms tighten around him. They leaned into each other, then Will moved a hand to cup Derek’s cheek and pulled back so that he could look at him. “What?”

Derek shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed again. It was  _ too weird.  _ “This summer. I don’t think anything about what I’ve been doing is healthy.”

“What have you — ” Will trailed off, as if he wasn’t certain that he wanted to know.

“I cut myself off from everyone, Will. I was — I told myself that I was scared they’d all be able to tell I was moping over you.”

“That doesn’t mean you need therapy.”

Derek’s eyes snapped open. He hated when Will bent too far the other way in an attempt to be accommodating. “Don’t do that. I’m telling you, you’re right. I — I didn’t even realize how bad I’d got.

“Derek — I — ” Will chewed on his tongue and avoided Derek’s eyes. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, and he was surprised to find he meant it. “Maybe Jeanie can help me. She seems nice.”

Will chewed on his lips, a pained expression on his face which left Derek frowning. “She’s an expert in OCD. Maybe you should ask Ransom for help finding one. He found Jeanie for me.”

“Are there… Are there therapists who are experts in bipolar?”

“Probably.”

Derek considered that. It sounded good to have someone to talk to who knew everything there was to know about his mental illness. “We should swap phones back,” he said, hoping that Will would run with the change in conversation.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’ve got a couple of texts from Leila.”

Derek’s moms, it seemed, had let his sister know that he was acting strange and that they were worried about both his mental health and what might be going on with Will. He ignored her texts, and shoved his phone in his pocket. “We should go to IKEA. As you brought the car up. Another desk. Whatever else we need for our room.”

“Bed sheets. I didn't end up — IKEA is a good idea.”

* * *

They ended up making a day of it, having soup and pasta and veggie balls at the IKEA restaurant, then going back for more after they had spent an hour pretending they needed to refurbish the kitchen. It was dark out by the time Derek sat on the new sheets fitted over his bed to watch Will put together a bookshelf and desk. 

“If you think about it, I'm doing DIY right now. You must be proud of me for that.”

Will turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You're just sat there.”

“But it's my hands crafting these masterpieces.”

“It's IKEA furniture.”

Derek laughed. “Okay, grumpy. I'll go and cook dinner, shall I? Leave you to do all the heavy lifting.”

Will grunted and stuck his head back under the desk. As he walked down the stairs, Derek turned his phone over in his hands, waiting for the time to change to the next hour. The moment it did, it started to ring. Derek sank to sit on the bottom step of the staircase, staring at the picture of Leila. What was he supposed to do? She had rung twice while they were at IKEA, and Derek had known after rejecting those calls that she would try again when she was on her way out of work. Now. He couldn’t answer, though, not sounding like Will,  and he certainly couldn't ask Will to lie to his sister. 

Derek closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the top edge of his phone. “Sorry, Lei,” he rasped, and he pressed his thumb to the ‘reject call’ symbol. 

Heart beating in his throat, Derek went into the kitchen and started gathering ingredients for a throw-it-all-in curry. He blamed stinging eyes on cooking mustard seeds and cutting onions, and he refused to think about anything else. He needed concentration to slice peppers and dice sweet potatoes without cutting off one of Will's fingers so he certainly couldn't be thinking about how he had never ignored Leila's calls before. He had ignored  _ her _ , back when they were children and arguing over something stupid that both would have forgotten by the next day, but phone calls when they were separated by school had become something precious. 

“Fuck,” Derek grumbled to himself. Some of the ginger garlic paste he had made earlier in the week went into the pot, followed by a can of chickpeas. There went one more person he had cut out this summer. 

“Der?”

Derek threw a handful of tomatoes into the curry without looking up at Will. “Fucking onions. Not usually — must be your white tear ducts.”

“Yeah. Must be,” Will said.

Derek could feel the intensity of his gaze, but still he avoided eye contact. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and leaned on the edge of the sink, staring at the wall.

“Do you want me to do anything?”

Derek jumped and turned back to Will. “Uh. No.” He dipped a spoon into the curry and had a taste, but the flavor was masked and muddled by chillies. Derek winced. However many days went past, he couldn’t get used to Will’s low tolerance to spice. “Yes, actually. Taste this. Tell me what it needs.”

“Surely it makes more sense to cook what you think tastes good?” Will asked, but he dutifully took the spoon and sipped some of the sauce. “It’s good.”

“What does it need?”

“I don’t know.”

Derek huffed. “What good is it you having my tastes if you can’t even help me make a decent curry?”

Will choked out a laugh and Derek turned back to the spice cabinet feeling a little lighter. It wasn’t the end of the world. Leila loved him unconditionally. He was her brother, and one day’s worth of rejected calls didn’t change that. If his tumultuous relationship with Will had taught him anything, it was that people could fuck up big time and still find a way to fix it later. The most intense arguments could have the simplest of solutions, and people were more forgiving of a bad day than Derek’s brain liked to have him think. Especially the people who had his back. He added a generous helping of cilantro to the curry then left it to simmer while he prepared some brown rice to go into the rice cooker.

Behind him, he could hear Will get out dishes and cutlery and pour them both beers.

“Hey,” Derek started cautiously.

Will hummed. It was the sort of sound Derek could definitely make  — after all, it  _ was  _ his voice  — but it was one hundred percent Will in the lack of words and the questioning cadence of the sound. Derek's question died on his tongue. Leila would never buy it, and it would only stress both of them out.

Will looked up at him, still waiting for him to say something.

“Uh. I was just — Can I take another day off work?”

Will's shoulders rose and dropped again. Derek gripped onto the back of a chair. He hadn't even meant to ask, because he had already been surprised at Will's lack of reaction the night before to his fake illness,and he didn't want to push his luck, but the words were already out, and he couldn't take them back, and at least he wasn't asking Will to impersonate him.

“Yeah. I mean. I had tomorrow off anyway, but if you call and say you won't be there the day after. It'll make being sick today more plausible and we can have a bit more time to — Whatever we need to do.”

A lump formed in Derek’s throat. He had no idea why Will was suddenly so easy about the idea of him skipping out on work, but he sounded genuine. He turned back to the curry to busy his hands with another perfunctory stir and avoid Will’s gaze. “Thanks. It’s Eid then, too. So. If this is still a thing, I don’t really want to work.”

“No. Your mom wants you to go home for it. She, uh, she kind of invited me too? So if it is still a thing, then we can both go so you can be with your family. If you want to, that is. If — If you’re okay with me being a part of that and everything.”

Derek closed his eyes, not opening them until the rice cooker beeped to announce it was finished. “Can we see how things go?”

Will gave Derek’s elbow a squeeze as he brought the dishes up to the counter to serve them both some dinner. “Of course.”

* * *

Dinner was followed by agonizing over the message Derek left on the Stop and Shop employee sick line, and then they settled onto the couch with mugs of jasmine tea and debated which movie would help them wind down the best.

“Something lighthearted, like  _ Pitch Perfect _ . Or we could raid Chowder’s room and see if he left his  _ Finding Nemo  _ DVD, and maybe sometime next week plan to go and see  _ Finding Dory _ ?” Will suggested, as he flicked through the Haus collection of all the DVDs left over the years that nobody had claimed or had forgotten who they belonged to.

“See what’s on Netflix,” Derek said. “I think they took  _ Freaky Friday _ off. That’s a shame.”

Will dropped  _ MVP: Most Valuable Primate  _ on the floor and shot Derek a scathing look. “Let’s just watch  _ Miracle.” _

“No, we’ve watched it a million times, no more, please.” Derek pushed off the couch. “I’ll go and see if Chowder’s left  _ Finding Nemo _ .”

Chowder had locked his door, but they could still get into his room by going from their bedroom, through the bathroom, and neither of them expected him to have any problem with them doing so, especially if it was just to get a DVD. Derek cast his eyes around the room, which was so familiar and full of Chowder’s things, but looked cold and empty without him being here. There were obvious gaps in the DVD collection, and a quick skim told Derek what he needed to know.

“No, he’s taken  _ Finding Nemo  _ with him! The only Disney or Pixar sea films here are  _ Shark Tale _ ,  _ Ponyo _ , and  _ Oceans _ .”

“He took  _ The Little Mermaid _ with him?” Will shouted up the stairs, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

“Bro, don’t judge C like that,” Derek said, dropping his voice to a mutter before he called back, “I don’t think he brought it into the Haus with him. He took it back after first year.”

“Oh. Hey, uh — ”

Will went quiet, and a second later there was the sound of running up the stairs. The floorboard between the bathroom and Chowder’s bedroom creaked when Will stepped through. “Hey, uh, he didn’t take it home because I chirped him for having it?”

Derek bit down on his bottom lip and forced himself to take a few even breaths before responding. “Probably. You were kind of an ass about it.”

Will tapped against the door frame anxiously. “He never — ”

“Why would he?” Derek snapped. Will had long accepted that some of his chirps frog year had gone too far and targeted things he had no right to chirp people for, but he was still so  _ dense  _ about it. He seemed to think that because he had accepted it and vowed to be better, that they would spoon-feed him every past wrongdoing that he should apologize for. “Fuck, Will, if he had sat you down and told you every chirp and every passing comment that had hurt him, you’d still be having that conversation with him right now. But you know Chowder. He doesn’t hold onto things like that. You apologized for how you used to be, and he’s forgiven you, and he’s got confidence that you’ll listen now so he’ll call you out if something comes up, but he’s not going to dredge up every little thing.”

“I — Yeah. Right. Okay.”

Derek went back to reading the back of  _ Free Willy: Escape from Pirate’s Cove,  _ leaving Will to battle with his thoughts.

“You have to admit, though — ”

_ He’s pushing it now,  _ Derek thought, as he snapped his gaze back to Will. His head leaned against the doorframe; he looked exhausted, but his mouth twitched with an amusing thought.

“Remember when he told us it wasn’t sharks the animals he liked, only Sharks the hockey team.”

The comment surprised a snort out of Derek. He had been so worried about Will saying something inappropriate, of the sort he hadn’t voiced since frog year. Instead, Derek eyed the rest of Chowder’s DVD collection with a new perspective. How had he never seen before just how many of them were set at sea? “Do you think he was kidding himself, or have so many other people made the same mistake as us and now he’s in too deep?”

“In too deep, pun intended?”

Derek grinned. “Obviously. Have you ever seen  _ Life of Pi?” _

“No.”

Derek hummed, and picked the DVD case from the shelf. The box next to it fell over and Derek absently reached out to stand it up again. He caught sight of what the movie was, frowned and pulled it off the shelf to read the note attached to the front.

 

> _ CFC, my protégé, _
> 
> _ I know this isn’t your usual sort of movie but it’s okay: I’m not asking you to watch it. Just to keep it with your other movies until someone else does. _
> 
> _ Yours, JJJ _

 

“Is it any good?” Will asked.

“Huh?”

“ _ Life of Pi.  _ Are we going to watch it? I — Have you seen it before or did you just want to — ”

“Did you know C owns  _ Freaky Friday _ ?”

“What?”

Derek held up the DVD. Will shook his head slowly, and stepped forward to peel off the note.

“JJJ?”

“Johnson, I think. The goalie before C.”

Will nodded. “That’s weird that he’d give him something like this. I’d understand, like,  _ Mystery Alaska  _ or something.”

“It doesn’t look like he bought it for C.”

“So who — ” Will trailed off. Derek shrugged. “That’s weird. I vote  _ Life of Pi _ .”

“What? Are you kidding me? Of course we’re going to watch  _ Freaky Friday. _ ”

“But — ” Will pressed his lips together. There were lines between his eyes and he read the note for what must already be the fifth time. “If you want to. It won’t help.”

Derek shrugged. He had wanted to watch it before. Maybe it held some answers.

* * *

They had only got twenty minutes in when Derek paused it. He knew that his tendency to do this annoyed Will, but by this point he couldn’t help it (and he still thought this was better than the way Chowder would talk over movies).

“Come on, Nurse. It’s barely even started. They only just got to the restaurant. You didn’t go to the toilet before?”

“I don’t need the toilet. I was just thinking we should have popcorn or something. More beer. Maybe Red Vines?”

Will leaned his head back in frustration. “We have none of those, do you really want me to go to Stop and Shop right now?”

“No,” Derek said, quickly. The last thing he wanted was Will wandering to the store, looking like Derek, this late in the evening. “We don’t even have more beer?”

“They were the last cans at dinner. It’s not like much was left behind, and I couldn’t buy more, could I?”

Derek should have asked Ransom and Holster to get more beer for them the other day, but it hadn’t occurred to him that there might not be any in the basement. He should have bought Red Vines, too, but he had been wholly focused on nutrition. “Never mind, then.”

Will frowned at him. “Hey, if you want candy, we can go to Stop and Shop.”

“Nah.”

“I’ll go, seriously. I mean. If you want them, you stay here and I’ll — ”

“Will, please. Don’t.”

“But — ”

“Why?” Derek cut across him. “Why are you trying to insist on this? I said it’s okay, we can just watch the fucking movie. Why push?”

Will swallowed, looking for the right way to explain. “I — I need to show you how much I appreciate you.”

_ Always reaching so far, and yet always falling on the wrong solution. _

“Will. If you appreciate me, you won’t walk my Black ass out to a place we literally call ‘murder’ Shop and Stop when it’s dark out.”

Will’s lips parted in confusion and a frown appeared between his eyes. “But — You’ve gone out this time loads.”

“I know how they want me to act so they won’t be so suspicious. I know which routes to avoid to make it a bit safer. Look, just drop it, okay? Let’s just — ” Derek wrang his hands out. They were starting to shake, and his throat felt tight.

“Okay.”

Will pulled Derek across his lap, and fumbled for something behind him. Derek felt soft fabric fall around his shoulders. Will tugged it around them and Derek saw the teal of Chowder’s pre-game nap blanket.

“You’re okay,” Will whispered again. He hugged Derek tighter so that he wouldn’t be jolted when Will reached for the remote control and turned the movie back on.

Slowly, Derek relaxed. His head came to rest on Will’s shoulder, which was actually his own shoulder but at least Will had worn one of his own shirts  — one which Derek must have forgotten he had because it had been washed little enough to still smell like Will. He managed to laugh when Lindsay Lohan introduced herself to Jamie Lee Curtis as her mom, and then Will made a comment about the early noughties outfits, and soon both of them were giggling over style and ridiculous plots, and how unrealistic it was that there weren't more serious consequences for the outlandish things they did in each other's bodies.

“So,” Derek said, when the credits were rolling.

“Are you okay?”

“I don't think it'll be as easy as giving you my blessing to marry another man who's not my father.”

“I don't think that movie is like our situation.”

“Except the body swapping part,” Derek pointed out. Will's cheek moved against his head, tilting in acknowledgment.

“Sure, but I don't think — ”

A ringing cut him off. Derek slid off Will’s lap to give him room to find his phone, but whoever it was caused Will to flinch and shove his phone back into his pocket without answering.

“Who — ”

It was Skype that interrupted him this time, lighting up Will's laptop that Derek had left open and running in the corner of the room the other day. Will pursed his lips, no doubt unimpressed that the laptop was on, but Derek figured it was his own fault for relying on it being turned off instead of having sensible power settings. They looked at the picture of Martin Jones that was Chowder’s current display picture. Will darted across the room and clicked the red button.

Derek recoiled. “You’re not going to answer?”

“Why would I answer?”

“It’s C!”

“He’s not expecting to see you here, or us together.”

Despite knowing that Will was right, Derek shook his head. Maybe Chowder wouldn’t be expecting it, but Derek hated to ignore him as much as he hated ignoring Leila. “It’s — But it’s C.”

“I know,” Will said, gently.

Derek sank back into the couch. “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither.”

“Keeping secrets from Chowder…”

“Yeah,” Will breathed. “Yeah, I know, but what are we supposed to do?”

“He’s our best friend. Why can’t we tell him about this?”

“Why do you think he’d even believe us?”

Derek searched for a response. The truth was he didn’t think Chowder would believe them, but he had reached a point where he wanted to scream it to everybody so that he didn’t have to keep pretending.

Will’s phone beeped with a message, and one came through to Derek’s phone seconds later.

> **C (Sparkly Heart emoji)**  
>    
>  11.55pm  
>  Hope you got back to NYC okay?  
>  You’re still coming tomorrow right?

“Was yours from C, too?” Derek asked. “I guess he’ll find out tomorrow anyway,” he continued, without waiting for a response. “We can’t be in the same room as him without him figuring something is up.”

“You want to go?”

Derek chewed on his lips. He understood Will’s surprise and hesitation  — after all, it was the same reason why he had been worried about seeing Ransom and Holster, and part of the reason he had called in sick to Will’s job  — but not going to the barbecue wasn’t an option for him. “It’s more that I don’t want to let them down. I — I can’t just not show up to this. I’ve already — After not talking to anyone this summer.”

Will tapped his knuckles against the arm of the sofa. “Okay,” he said, but the uncertainty remained in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay. If you want, we can keep pretending. Make it into a game. Who can do the most outrageous impression of the other without drawing suspicion.”

Will snorted. “We should go to bed.”

Derek used the bathroom first, and changed into one of his own pairs of sweatpants before he crawled into his side of the bed and pulled the covers around him, glad to finally have a set that fit the bed. When Will came out of the bathroom, also in his own pyjamas, and walked down to Derek’s side, and started up the ladder to the top bunk, Derek made a noise of protest.

Will paused, foot hovering above the next rung of the ladder. “What?”

“I just — ” The air seemed to have been snatched from Derek’s lungs, but he didn’t know why. There was no reason why Will would have been on the same page as him about sharing a bed, because why would he ever assume that his ex-boyfriend wanted to share a bed with him, but the surprise of seeing him about to climb to the top bunk stunned Derek into not being able to breathe.

“Derek?”

He tried to shake his head, but his chest hurt and his muscles trembled. The worst part was knowing that this was the stupidest little thing to be anxious about, and there was nothing to be scared of, but his mind flashed back to that first morning of waking up in Will’s body, in Will’s bed, and the dizziness that had followed.

“Derek, can I touch you?”

Derek forced his eyes shut, and counted to ten in his head.

“Derek talk to me.”

“W - What if — ” His mouth was dry, so he swallowed desperately. “What if we switch back? I’ll be — top bunk.”

“Where else do you want me to — ” Will started, but his eyes dragged over the half of the duvet Derek had carefully left untouched. “Oh. I — ”

“Sorry. You don’t — I shouldn’t have assume — ”

Will climbed over Derek’s feet so that he could get into the bed.

“Oh.”

Will rolled so that he could reach the cupboard the other side of the bed and got out a fresh bottle of water which he opened and pressed into Derek’s hands, along with an Ativan tablet. Derek tried not to think too hard about how he didn’t remember Will getting the pill bottle. “You don’t suit a body wired towards anxiety, huh?”

Derek took a long sip, washing the pill down, and put the half-empty bottle on the floor. “Does anyone?”

Will shook his head, and reached out tentatively. Derek curled up towards his chest. “I’ve got you.”

“Is this how you always feel, Will?” Derek asked, when his heart no longer felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. “Like you’re going to shake right out of your own skin from all the thoughts? Like… Like they’ll always just keep getting worse, and even when they’re not too bad, it’s still simmering there as a possibility.”

For a while, he thought that Will wasn’t going to answer. The silence stretched on, and their chests stuttered against each other with uneven breaths. “Yeah,” Will eventually croaked.

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ve all got our shit. It’s not like you don’t deal with worse.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate before that it was this bad for you. I just thought — Anxiety, that’s like overthinking things, right? I didn’t think it would be like this.” Derek winced and pressed his hand to his chest, where there was still a twisting ache. 

“It’s not your job to know how I feel.”

“But dibs — ”

“Hey,” Will said, eyes fixed on Derek. “ _ I  _ have to apologize for how I acted over dibs.  _ This,  _ the anxiety, the OCD, the panic. That’s not an excuse for how I reacted. I was an entitled asshole about it, and no wonder Lardo hasn’t talked to me since because — ”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that. She’s got every right. She was going to give you dibs. She would have done if you hadn’t told me Ransom and Holster’s were gone in the first place, and we hadn’t gone to talk to them. She would have done if I hadn’t kicked up such a fuss when I saw it going that way. You deserved those dibs. You earned them, and they were hers to give you, but I was only thinking of myself, and of my anxiety, and I screwed you over. I’m — I’m so sorry.”

A lump formed in Derek's throat. “You know that’s not why I was upset with you.”

“No. I know. You should have been upset with me for it, but — Yeah. I’m sorry for that, too. How I reacted to the coin flip. That I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that I didn’t want to share with you or — or — ” He choked on the words, but forced himself to carry on. “That I made you feel like I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I get it now. If you felt like that. It’s… It’s seriously hard to think of anything else. I — But. No. You hurt me, and — It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Will repeated. “I love you. I made a fucking poor show of it that day. I was being so selfish and so — so — Shit. I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in his eyes.

“It’s — ” Derek clenched his hand around Will’s nightshirt. It wasn’t chill, and he shouldn’t say that it was, despite that being his automatic reaction.

Will covered his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “Derek. I'm really happy to call this our room, now. I love sharing a room with you.”

Derek rolled onto his back and frowned at the ceiling. “C said you cleared space in the basement.”

“I gave it a good sort out,” Will said slowly. “Why?”

“I thought you were clearing it so that you could live down there.”

A low chuckle made Derek tilt his head to look back at Will.

“Bitty forgets his washing  _ every time  _ and has to go and put it in the dryer at about two a.m. I couldn’t live in the same room as it.” He sobered up with a wary look at Derek. “No, I — I guess I thought we could pimp it up a bit. Maybe move the green couch down there and buy Bitty a new one for the lounge. But it was all in the interest of giving us  — whichever of us needed it  — somewhere we could go to get some space from the other. It wasn’t about not wanting to live with you.”

“And if both of us need space?”

“We have there and this room and seeing as I stole your dibs, you get to choose which place will be yours. Maybe by a time by time system or something. Because sometimes you might not want to be where there’s reminders of me, but other times you’ll want your own bed.”

Derek shook his head. “I shouldn’t get to choose every time.”

Will rolled his eyes, but didn’t offer up any arguments or compromises. “I just remembered,” he said, and he got up.

Derek lifted himself onto his elbows to watch as Will rummaged through one of the bags he had yet to unpack. He came back, a folded blanket under one arm and Tigger in the other hand. He tucked Tigger on Derek’s pillow and laid the blanket out, tucking Derek in before he got back into bed himself.

Derek sighed and rolled his head to the side, watching Will get comfortable. The care with which he looked after Derek, and the softness in his expression when he rolled onto his side and saw Derek looking at him, was a reminder of all the good times they’d had together: memories of them taking care of each other, of talking each other through bad mental health days, and of cuddling under a ton of blankets. Will spending hours hunched over his laptop, delving deeper and deeper into research about Black history or asexuality or the Islamic faith in an attempt to know and understand Derek better. Trading tender kisses in secret before each game. Double dates of pizza and Netflix with Chowder and Farmer. Play wrestling that ended with them laughing into each other’s mouths on Chowder’s bedroom floor while their best friend complained loudly about them  _ always having to be like this _ . And, time after time, Will asking “ _ Is this okay?” “What do you want?” “How far?” “Tell me to stop at any time.”  _ He had never pushed. Not once. Somehow that was what made Derek trust him enough to keep going. It’s what gave him the urge to kiss him, now, thinking about the times when Will had been the  _ best  _ boyfriend.

It was still Will, even if he looked like Derek. And Will was the man Derek had fallen for, so the desire to kiss him wasn’t too surprising, but Derek found himself frowning as he looked over his own features.

Scrap that thought. It was too weird.

“Hey,” Will said. “I can practically hear you overthinking things right now. I am really sorry. I know that probably doesn’t change things, but I am. If there’s anything I can do to stop it from hurting you anymore — ”

Derek wanted to cut him off and tell him that his thoughts hadn’t been on the pain. He wanted to stop him talking by kissing the words away and end this madness which kept them apart. “We’re okay,” he said, instead, for now wasn’t the time. “I can forgive you. I — Sleep?”

Will huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Let's sleep.” He reached out and gave Derek’s shoulder one last squeeze, then they rolled so they had their backs to each other.

“You think we talked enough to switch back tomorrow?” Will asked. Derek reached out for Tigger, and clutched him against his chest, feeling as if something was missing from his arms.

“I hope so. Goodnight, Will.”


	6. Day Five (Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they go to a BBQ and pretending to be each other gets more difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter triggers: Discussions of coming out and fears of coming out, mention of pressure within relationships, Tango asks some awkward questions, heteronormative comments, spontaneous coming out, dissociation, driving while dissociating, which nobody really says anything about and nothing bad happens because of it but it's not a good idea all the same. (Despite what Derek says)

When Will woke, Derek’s side of the bed was empty, but still warm. Will rolled onto his front, stretching into the space, and gave his body a once over. He was still in Derek’s skin.

Voices drifted up from downstairs. Will grumbled to himself as he rolled off the bed, stepped into his slippers, and went to see who was there.

“ — being like that?”

“Seriously, Poindexter? You break my brother's heart and you expect me to play nice with you while you're leading him on. Seriously, what do you get out of it? You broke up with him so, what, you just want to fuel your ego or — ?”

“What? Leila, don't — you don't know what you're talking about.”

Leila scoffed. “Sure.”

“I’m serious. He didn’t — I mean. Breaking up with — ” Derek stuttered to a stop. “Him,” he said, slowly, hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had picked the right pronoun. “Us breaking up. It wasn’t because — Look, I love him, okay? I love him. And he loves me. It just wasn’t the right time. I — I wasn’t — I don’t want to come out. And he doesn’t want to stay in the closet, and I — I guess it sort of felt sometimes like — ”

“Like he wanted you to come out before you were ready.” There was a strange tone in Leila’s voice; perhaps something between exasperation and disappointment, though Will couldn’t be certain.

Derek apparently heard it too. “No!” he said, indignantly. “No, I just — It wasn’t like that. He just knew I’d be better with support around me so he was trying to get me to tell some of the team. Not  _ everyone.  _ Just enough that I had other people to talk to, and — and now Ransom and Holster know, so — ”

Will closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall. Derek was right, but Will had never been able to hear it before. He had always misinterpreted, and a part of him was deliberately misconstruing it out of fear.

“Don’t tell me he was right. Will. Please.” Will’s eyes snapped open. Leila barrelled on. “Support systems are great, and I know where he gets that from because our moms were always _so_ big on open communication. He needs it. He feels good when he’s sharing stuff, and he’s never been very good at bottling it up and keeping quiet. But _you’re_ not _him.”_

Will rolled his eyes at the plasterboard separating him and the Nurse siblings. Leila had no idea how wrong she was.

“Leila — ” Derek said.

“You don’t owe anyone your sexuality, Will. Not even for Derek’s sake. However good his intentions.”

“I — ” Derek choked on the words and Will took pity on him.

“Morning,” he said as he walked through the kitchen door, and he made sure to look surprised when his eyes fell on Leila, leaning against the counter. “Leila? What are you — ”

“Hey, Der-bear.”

Will looked at Derek, letting the confusion show on his face. His eyes passed over the coffee pot (still brewing) and back to Leila.

“When did you get here? And… why?”

Leila pursed her lips. “I only just got here. Ma said you were a bit upset about something and going to Samwell and I was already thinking of having a day in the Manhattan office so I arranged to come to Boston instead.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t know what to say. “I’m — It’s all chill.”

Derek snorted, but Leila ignored him. Will found himself with a face-full of hijab as she pulled him in for a tight hug. He twisted his head to get free of the material and she responded with a kiss to his cheek. “I thought you weren’t going to do that with me.” There was hurt in her voice and Will cracked open an eye to look at Derek over her shoulder. They pulled apologetic grimaces at each other.

“Leila — ” Will said, pulling away from the hug.

“You know that convincing me you’re okay isn’t going to work when you spent yesterday screening my calls.”

Will glanced at Derek again. “Uh. Right. But really — ”

_ “Derek.”  _ Leila stared at him at length, then shook her head. She glanced over at the actual Derek, then back to Will. When she spoke again, she had switched to Gujarati. Unknown words washed over him, and Will tried to catch Derek’s eye and plead for silent help, because he couldn’t even figure out her tone, but Derek was focused on Leila, his eyebrows furrowed. Her voice turned lighter, and Derek choked out a laugh.

The room went still.

Will blinked at Derek, then slid his attention back to Leila, who watched him through narrowed eyes.

“What’s — You’re being weird.” Leila’s voice shook, like she was apprehensive about getting a response. “You — You  _ look  _ weird. Since when did you wear slippers, grandpa?”

Will swallowed, and looked down at his outfit  — a plaid long-sleeved pyjama set, finished off by bright blue fluffy slippers (last year’s Christmas present from Chowder). It was very him, and very  _ not  _ Derek.

Leila muttered something else, fast enough that Will didn’t have time to process the language, except that it wasn’t English.

“Lei — ” Derek croaked. Her eyes snapped to his.

“What’s going on?”

“Lei, I — I just wanted to understand. I didn’t want — ”

Will felt like his heart might burst out of his chest. “Derek, I — ” He covered his mouth with a hand. It hurt to hear Derek so vulnerable, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or be sick. He settled for slapping the countertop to let out a burst of emotion, then pouring out three cups of coffee.

“Oh my God. You’re really — This is actually — You’re — Fuck. What the fuck?” Leila let out a laugh, which bordered on hysteria.

“Yeah,” Derek said.

“So it’s not actually — You’re not — You’re only here because — ” Leila sank into a chair and stared at the table, then up at Derek, with wide eyes.

“I mean — ” Derek glanced over at Will, who shrugged. “I think both of us kind of have a lot to talk about anyway, but I like to think we’re both looking to — ” He trailed off, looking to Will with uncertainty.

“I’ve missed you too much not to want that,” Will told him. “But it’s your choice.”

Leila pushed herself to her feet. “I should go to the office.”

“But you haven’t drunk your coffee,” Derek told her.

Whatever her reply was, she made sure Will would neither hear nor understand, but it left Derek pouting.

“Lei, please — ”

“I have to work.”

“We’ve got to get to Providence, anyway,” Will chipped in. “Jack and Bitty’s barbecue.”

Derek looked a lot less enthusiastic now than he had the night before, but he nodded all the same. “That’s not until late afternoon.”

“I have to go to work,” Leila repeated. “Whatever you two get up to, I don’t care.”

Will held out a set of keys for her. “You’ll probably get back before us, then,” he said.

* * *

They spent the morning bickering over whether it was for the best Leila knew (neither of them seemed sure if they were arguing for or against), what to wear for the barbecue, and what they were going to do if anyone tried to start a personal or private conversation. After a decent lunch, their debate turned into who should drive. Derek spent the journey to Providence moaning about Will’s insistence on staying below the speed limit.

The moment Jack opened the door of his apartment and saw them stood next to each other, they realized how difficult today would be. If even Jack was staring at them, eyebrows pulled together in quiet confusion, then those who were closer to them would be difficult to convince. Holster’s voice faded to nothing when they walked through the door, and when Ransom turned to see what he was looking at, he stiffened and gaped at them. Chowder, however, looked mildly excited in a way Will hadn’t expected, though his jaw had dropped open.

“Oh my God, I didn’t expect — Wow.” Chowder shook his head and wrapped them both in a hug. “When Johnson said it had been watched, I thought it had to be one of your foster parents, Dex. Or maybe your brother? Because I was so convinced it had to be a family thing, because the original is mother and daughter. I always thought it would be Bitty, actually. But you two! That’s so much better. Are you friends again now?” In true Chris Chow fashion, the words came fast enough that Will only just processed what he was saying, not helped by him having to whisper so nobody else would hear.

“You — You know what happened?” Derek asked.

“Not really! I just know you watched the DVD. And that Dex would never get an iPhone.” He pointed at the phone sticking out of Derek’s pocket.

Will wanted to drag him to a quiet room and figure out what he meant and how he knew and fill in the gaps so that they could have a proper frog chat about it all. In all honesty, he regretted not picking up the night before when Chowder had Skyped. How could they hope to sort this out without Chowder? He had always been the mediator, their best friend, the one to complement them and balance them out. Without him, Derek and Will never had a chance.

There was nowhere for them to go, though, and before Will could think to suggest they take a walk, Ransom and Holster descended on them.

“Dex, bro,” Holster said to Derek. “You didn't say Nursey was the reason you turned down our lift.”

“Uh…” Derek turned to Will.

“I came up to Samwell yesterday,” Will explained. “We — you know. There's a lot to sort out before we move in together.”

Ransom narrowed his eyes at him. Will hoped he was suspicious about neither of them saying anything earlier, rather than thinking anything more sinister had happened.

“So when did this happen?” Holster asked. “I mean you two have — ” He cut off with a yelp when Ransom elbowed him. Will glanced over his shoulder, wary of any potential eavesdroppers.

“No,” Derek said. “It's not — ” He rubbed a hand down his face, but it didn't wipe away his grimace. Will felt the guilt pool in his stomach. If only he had made sure Derek knew he could talk to Ransom and Holster.

“B! Thank you for invitation.” Tater’s voice rose above the noise of the gathering, and drew first Ransom’s attention, then Holster’s. Will let himself breathe as he and Derek were brushed aside and forgotten.

“Hey,” Derek muttered. “Are you okay?”

Will nodded, despite the knot in his stomach. “Are you?”

Derek took a couple of shaky breaths before he nodded back. Will resisted the urge to squeeze his hand.

“Let's find some drinks,” he said instead.

Chowder had made it to Jack’s kitchen, too, along with Farmer who was in deep conversation with a Falconer’s girlfriend. Will searched the fridge for beer while Derek pulled a seat up next to Chowder and leaned in for a hug. Chowder whispered something to him, and Derek shook his head.

“C? You want one?” Will asked, as he put a beer in front of Derek.

“Yes please!”

“Cait?”

Farmer jumped and stared at him. Too late, Will realized that Derek would never use her first name. “Uh… sure. Thanks… Derek. Are you having a good summer?”

Will resisted the urge to look at Derek. “It’s been okay.”

“You were at the Penguins’ development camp, weren’t you?”

A Falconer looked over in interest, and Will felt his cheeks burning. He tugged on his collar, wanting to cover his face, until he remembered that Derek didn’t blush as violently as he would. “Yeah.”

Farmer nodded, and Will could tell from the tilt of her head and the expectancy in her gaze that he should be saying something else.

“Cait, look at this,” Chowder interrupted, pressing his phone her hand. As she looked down to read whatever post or article Chowder had found, Will shot Chowder a grateful look, and he responded with a soft smile.

They were saved the trouble of continuing the conversation when Shitty shouted “Grill’s up!” and, in groups, they all filed out to the patio to get some food. Will let Bitty lead him to the “Nursey-friendly” options, and he could tell that Derek was following them without having to look around to check.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Bitty said, frowning at Will. “Has everything been okay?”

“Oh, uh,” Will used piling onions onto his tofu burger as an excuse to look at Derek, who gave a slight nod. “Yeah. I’ve just been busy, you know?”

Bitty nodded as if he didn’t quite believe him, but patted him on the back and turned towards the meat grill. “Are you okay, Dex?” he asked, when he saw Derek hovering.

“I want some salad.” Derek pointed at the salad bowl next to Will, and hurried past a confused Bitty.

“It’s okay,” Will whispered to him as he spooned lettuce onto his plate.

“Yeah. It’s all chill,” Derek breathed back. He picked a couple of veggie sausages and tapped some hummus onto a slice of wholemeal bread. “Do you think anyone suspects anything?”

“Except Chowder, you mean? No, I don’t think so.”

They weaved their way back through the gathering, plates piled high, to find somewhere to sit. It was hard to find any seats tucked out of the way, and Will was about to suggest they sit on the floor in the hallway when Derek grabbed his elbow and steered him to the couch, where the tadpoles were sat.

“Hi Nursey, hi Dex,” Tango said, cheerily. Whiskey nodded at them.

“Did you want to sit? I’m sure we can squeeze all of us in,” Ford said, nudging Tango’s thigh to get him to budge up and make some room. Will was skeptical; it was a large couch for three people but it wasn’t big enough to fit five, four of whom were NCAA hockey players. Derek grinned, however, and sat down, dragging Will with him so that they were squashed onto the cushion, legs squashed against each other in their attempt to fit.

“How’s your summers going?” Tango asked. Will bit back a sigh. He should have realized that would be the question of the day, and prepared answers during the drive. “Have you done anything interesting?”

Their shoulders knocked against each other when they shrugged. “Not really,” Derek said. “Work, mostly.”

“Oh.” Tango sounded disappointed. “What about — Hey! Did you go vegetarian?”

They followed his eyes down to Derek’s plate.

“No, just… trying to eat healthy in the offseason?” Derek said.

Will resisted a roll of the eyes (because  _ really  _ Derek, just because he ate meat, didn’t mean his diet was unhealthy), and instead schooled his face into a neutral expression. He couldn’t let it show how much he regretted today; how much he wished that they could go now, because they had made an appearance, after all, so it wouldn’t be rude to leave a little early, would it? Derek could say he had work tomorrow and Will could cite relying on ‘Dex’ for a lift as a reason to go at the same time. Or fatigue, maybe. He just needed to catch Derek’s eye and communicate the idea to him.

* * *

Two hours passed in a surreal blur of faces and conversations, and still Will hadn’t managed to pull Derek aside. At the moment, he couldn’t even find him. Between going up for more food, and toilet breaks and Ransom and Holster dragging Derek off to Jack’s guest room, no doubt to interrogate him about Will and Derek’s relationship status, they had ended up separated. As the afternoon went on it got harder for Will to find his way back to Derek.

Most of the Falconers had left now; only a couple of those without families remained with Samwell students, past and present. Will leaned against the wall, nursing a beer and tapping his foot anxiously. He  _ hated  _ this.

“You so need to chill,” came a scratchy voice at his ear. He winced and grabbed onto the shirt Derek wore, and gave him a light shove.

“Can we go now?”

Derek looked around, eyeing up the route to the front door as if to see how easy it would be to sneak out. He nodded in the direction of the kitchen and slowly they made as if they were getting more drinks, when in fact it would put them in a better position to make an exit.

“What about you, Nurse?”

Both of them jumped and turned to the source of the shout. Ollie raised an eyebrow at them and Will wondered how he expected them to have been following his conversation with Wicky, Jack and Chowder.

“Wha — ” Derek started to say, just as Will remembered that he needed to be the one to answer.

“What's that?”

“Chowder was telling us about Tampa. How was Pittsburgh?” Wicky asked.

“Pittsburgh?” Tango joined. “Were you in Pittsburgh, Nursey? What were you doing there?”

“Development camp,” Will replied in a tight voice. His eyes flickered back to the door.

“Fuck, yeah!”  _ Oh God _ , and Ransom was listening in now. “How was it?”

Will grasped onto the back of a chair. “Okay. It was — I don’t know.” Everyone was looking at him, and expecting him to want to talk about the camp and he didn’t know what to say. The room started to blur when he gripped harder on the chair.

“Yeah,” Chowder jumped in, sounding resigned, but his eyes darted anxiously between Will and Derek. “I know how you feel. Everyone is just so good! Which is awesome. It was really cool to play alongside people who are actually going to play in the NHL next season, but it’s a bit…”

“Intimidating?” Derek filled.

“Yeah!”

“Is it harder for you, knowing that everyone’s going to look at you differently? You know, because you’re — ” Tango trailed off and a frown appeared between his eyes.

“Because I’m trans?” Chowder asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Sure, but they let me go to the development camp, didn’t they?”

Will knew that it wasn’t that easy, and that Chowder wasn’t as relaxed about it as he seemed, but he didn’t say anything. He breathed steadily, because that was easier to focus on than the rest of the room.

“Is that the same reason you found it difficult, Nursey?” Tango asked. Will forced his shoulders up in a shrug. “I was thinking the other day,” Tango continued, unconcerned by the lack of response. “Have you ever noticed how many of our team are LGBT? I think it must be more than one in four. In fact…” His words faded to nothing, but his mouth continued to move as he looked at each of his teammates in turn. “Is everyone here?”

“Uh,” Wicky said with a shrug. “Maybe?”

“Except Shitty, not that he’s still on the team,” Ollie added. “Oh, and Dex, of course.”

The tension in Will’s shoulders tightened. He could feel Derek’s gaze on him, but he refused to look up from his knuckles, now white from his grip on the chair.

“Ol, don’t,” Ransom warned.

“Oh sure, Dex is straight as a ruler,” Wicky agreed.

“No.”

It was Derek’s voice, and Will jumped when he heard the word leave his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak and he definitely didn’t want to arouse suspicion now. They just needed to make a quiet exit, except the whole room was focused on him. Everybody stared, some frowning in confusion, others startled or concerned. Chowder’s eyes were wide with fear.

“What’s that, Nursey?” Bitty asked, placing a pie on the coffee table. Anybody who hadn’t tuned into the conversation before did now, as they pounced on the pie.

_ Try coming out to someone you trust. Let yourself see that it’s not always something to be scared of. _

Jeanie’s words echoed in his mind.

“I’m gay,” he choked out.

Later, he would remember how strange it was that the room didn't fall more out of focus, or that his breathing didn’t hitch into hyperventilation, or that his chest was devoid of pain. The tension in his body had gone, and he no longer needed the chair for support. Instead, he was floating; watching the room as an outsider. He noticed the details. He noticed Ransom’s eyes narrow in confusion then widen in horror and realization. He noticed Holster whip out his phone and start googling frantically. He noticed the half-stunned, half-pitying look on the face of one William “Dex” Poindexter. He had a vague notion that the bewildered and bemused glances from the rest of the team were not the expected reaction, but as he felt more and more detached from reality, the less he was able to discern why everything felt so wrong.

“Didn’t we already know that? That’s why I asked if you had an issue at the development camp? But was I supposed to not know that you’re — Wait, I thought you were pan? Or — ”

“Ace,” Chowder cut over Tango. “Nursey’s grey-ace. And bi, or pan works just as well. He’s not fussed about the labels.”

“So why did he — ”

“Shh.”

‘Dex’ crouched in front of ‘Nursey’ and his hands wrapped around Nursey’s wrists. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re dissociating.”

Shitty and Lardo exchanged a look.

“You’re going to be okay. Focus on my voice.” It was low, and even, and the Maine accent was comforting, like home. “I want you to find five things you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud if you don’t want.”

_ Red hair. Lardo chewing on her lips. Bitty hovering with the empty pie pan, watching on in concern. Ransom and Holster looking at him with wide eyes. Hands which were too dark to be his; they were Nursey’s but _ _ — _

Nursey’s head shook. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. It’s okay. You can do it. Four things you can touch.”

_ Skin on skin as their hands squeezed together. Denim under the edge of his hand. There was a hat on his head, and it made his curls feel _ _ — _

“I don’t have — ”

A whimper left Derek’s mouth and Dex rose up onto his knees, and pulled him against his chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let’s go. We’ll get you back to the Haus.”

“I'll drive,” Holster offered. “Shits can bring Nursey’s car back to Samwell.”

“No.” Dex’s head snapped up. “Dex likes to be in control of the car.”

Jack frowned. Bitty and Ford shared a look.

“Did he just refer to himself in the third person?” Tango asked.

Nobody responded to the question.

“Nursey — ” Ransom said, calmly.

“It's okay. He won't crash or anything. It's completely safe. He knows everything that's going on, he just feels detached from it. He can drive, and because he likes driving, it could ground him. It's better than him getting in a deeper panic because someone else is driving.”

Ransom chewed on his lips. “Okay, but I think we should — ” He looked around the room, finally settling his eyes on Shitty. “It shouldn't be just you two in the car. And maybe we should… you know. Split up. Talk.”

“Jack, bro,” Shitty said, slapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack jumped. “What do you say to a sleepover? Me’n Lards can take the guest room.”

Bitty’s eyebrows pulled together. “If you want, but I was about to say to Nursey didn’t he want to stay? You don’t have to go, honey, especially when you’re not feeling well.”

Nursey blinked. It seemed to take his body a long time to respond to his own name, and something nudged at the back of Will’s consciousness to remind him that there was a reason for that.  When he opened his mouth, his voice sounded strange. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

The green Toyota Prius rolled along I-95. The passenger (black skin, white snapback, striped blue tank top) chatted non-stop, about anything and everything. The driver looked like Derek Nurse. His hair curled around the brim of his hat, and the sleeves of his cardigan were rolled up to his elbows. He was empty, though. Quiet, and uncharacteristically stoic as he drove. The red jeep they were following had long disappeared into the distance.


	7. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter triggers: Discussion of coming out, more mentions of Will's estrangement from his foster family after coming out to them, deep discussions of mental health, including how it affected their relationship before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which they talk.

They were speeding down the road back to Samwell. Derek had already relayed to Holster the whole story of how he had made the wish on the Stanley Cup and woken up the next day in Will’s body, and he was quick to bring up his own questions when Holster explained how Will had come out to him and Ransom after the dib flip. Holster told him how Will had expressed his need to stay at the Haus over the summer having been kicked out of his foster family’s house over Christmas, and when Derek burst into tears over the fact, Holster stared at him until a car behind them blared the horn because he had drifted partway into the next lane.

“Shit man,” he said, turning his eyes back to the road. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I —  Why does this fucking body cry so fucking easily?” Derek wailed. He planted his heels on the seat and tucked his chin on his knees.

Holster snorted.  _ “Right.  _ So there he was, crying his heart out and he told us that he didn’t have a home to go to and that he hadn’t wanted to put it on any of us to support him. Rans asked why it had happened and he did that same thing he just did today. He went all tense and spat out that he’s gay and then we had to hold off on our questions because… Well, because he went into an anxiety attack. Second one in two days.”

“Fuck,” Derek breathed. “Why didn’t he just  _ tell  _ me?”

“About his family?”

When Derek croaked out a “yes,” Holster shrugged. “We assumed he had. It happened Christmas Day and the break up — He never made out that it was because he wasn’t telling you things. He wanted to take the blame a hundred percent, but—”

“That's bullshit. As if he's the only one to blame. But what did he even think I would do? Did he really — I thought I made it clear that I wanted him to tell you guys for himself not because I was trying to force him out the closet. Every time he had to lie about it he— God, but it's not like—” Derek cut himself off and wrung his hands, trying to shake away the anxiety rumbling through him. 

“Bro, seriously. It’s not the coming out that was an issue. Well, it  _ was  _ an issue, but it wasn’t you. He knew you weren’t trying to force him into any unsafe situations. That’s probably why he didn’t tell you about his family, man, because he knew you’d be upset he put himself in that position.”

“Fuck, of course I’d be upset about that. They might be shit, but they’re his family. I get that. And the girls — But I wouldn’t have been upset with  _ him.  _ I’d be upset  _ for  _ him.”

“Nursey. Dex hasn’t been well in a long time, okay? He really needed those therapy sessions, and I’d love to say you could have supported him through them instead of Rans and me, but he needed to be on his own for a bit. Maybe both of you needed this.”

Derek sniffed. “Sure.”

Holster didn’t say anything else until they were parked outside the Haus. “I’m not taking sides. I want both of you to be happy, and that doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. For any of it, if you don’t want.”

Derek shook his head and climbed out the Jeep. “I already forgave him.”

“Nursey—”

Derek let the front door slam open. “Lei?”

“Der?”

Her voice came from the den. He dropped onto the green couch next to her and buried his head into the scarf which fell over her shoulders.

“Hey, Der-bear,” she muttered.

“He’s hurting so much, Lei.”

“He hurt you first,  _ aboowe _ .”

Derek shook his head. “It was before. He was hurting before and I didn’t notice. I couldn’t help him or give him what he needed and he was already hurting. He was just trying to protect himself, and it’s his brain that got it wrong, but it wasn’t his fault.”

She adjusted her arms to hold him tighter. “Justification, not an excuse.”

Derek grunted in acknowledgement. “He didn’t tell me, though. He’s not been reaching for excuses.”

_ “You’re  _ making excuses for him.”

“No, Lei. I’m forgiving him now I understand why he acted how he did. He’s already told me he knows it was wrong, and he’s apologized for hurting me. It’s the one thing I didn’t get. How he could — If he really loved—” He swallowed and hugged her tighter. Holster’s hand was firm on his back, but he could only take a little comfort from having people around him. Everything was still a big mess.

* * *

It felt like an age before Will and Ransom arrived. By then, Leila had made steaming mugs of tea, and pulled Derek’s head into her lap while Holster put on  _ Golden Girls _ . She carded her fingers through Will’s short hair, and though Derek didn’t feel as comforted by it as he normally did, he closed his eyes and let himself relax into the touch. When the door opened, the three of them looked up to see Will staring at the screen. Holster turned to Ransom.

“Is he still—”

“No,” Will replied. “I — I’m okay.”

“Will,” Derek croaked. He winced over how tender the skin was when he wiped his cheeks. He swung his legs off Holster’s lap and stood. “Will, can we—”

“I’m sorry.” Will lifted his arms, then seemed to change his mind. Derek tugged on his elbow, and he fell into his arms.

“It’s okay.”

Will shook against him. When he sobbed into Derek’s shoulder, Derek started to tear up again.

“Can we talk?” he asked, wiping his nose on the cardigan that Will wore.

“Gross,” Will muttered, but as it was Derek’s cardigan, Derek didn’t apologize.

“Can we?”

“I — Later, yes. But right now — I can’t — I — I’m sorry. I’ll — No. I’ll try. Of course we can talk.”

Derek sighed. He didn’t want to force anything before Will was ready, not even a conversation.

“I’m Ransom, by the way, and this is Holster,” Derek heard Ransom say behind them.

“Leila. I’m Derek’s sister.”

“Swawesome. So, Leila. Has your brother ever taken you to Jerry’s?”

Derek took the conversation as a cue to push Will in the direction of the stairs. He kept his hand firmly on Will’s back and rubbed in small circles when they reached the landing. “Come on, baby,” he muttered. “You’re okay, now.”

Will leaned into him and let Derek guide him to the bed, where Derek pulled the blanket around him and made him sit. He tucked Tigger into Will’s arm, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just as his mom always did for him whenever he was going through a tough time at home.

By the time Derek had grabbed a box of Kleenex, Will had curled up on the foot of the bed, hugging Tigger to his chest. Silent tears trickled over his cheeks and onto the tissue that Derek dabbed against his face.

“I’m so sorry.” Derek didn’t dare speak above a whisper. The words shook. “I’m sorry I didn’t see—” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Will’s temple. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it now.”

A hand curled around the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” Will croaked back. “I’m sorry, Derek, I—” Will fidgeted until Derek gave him the room to sit up. He shuffled back on the bed so that they were sat cross-legged across from each other, not touching though Derek desperately wanted to hold his hand. “Dan — After I left yours at Christmas—”

“It’s okay,” Derek hastened to assure him. “Holster told me everything. We don’t have to talk yet if—”

“No. I — I’m sorry  _ I  _ didn’t tell you. I should have—”

“Will. You were in no way  _ required  _ to tell me. If you were going to tell me, I’d hope it was because you trusted me and you wanted me to know, rather than just out of some misguided sense of obligation to me as your boyfriend.”

“I did — I  _ do  _ trust you.”

“But not with that?” Derek asked, trying to keep the sharpness out of his voice. He shouldn't be going into this now. Not when Will was probably still feeling the effects of the dissociation. But— “Not enough to just tell me that had happened instead of letting me bring up over and over that coming out didn’t have to include people who had  _ already kicked you out  _ for being gay?  _ Fuck _ . The number of times I must have brought that up. No wonder you were pushing back on the coming out thing.”

Will shook his head and rested a hand on Derek’s cheek. He took a shaky breath before he spoke. “That’s not why I broke up with you. It was — I admit part of it was because I didn’t know how to talk to you but that was  _ my  _ problem,  _ my  _ mental shit, nothing to do with you and I wasn’t blaming you with it. I didn’t break up with you because you were encouraging me to let more people in. I was in a really fucked up place, Derek. I  _ put  _ myself in a terrible place because I didn’t want to make you worry so I didn’t tell you shit I should have done. Or Chowder or Cait. That’s why I broke up with you. It had gone too far. It — It wasn’t fair to you for me to keep doing that when I needed help. We were going to break up anyway. We needed such completely different things, then.”

Derek flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could acknowledge the truth in Will’s words, that they had been in completely different places to each other. Trying to push through a relationship was naive and futile. One of them had been bound to break sooner or later. The cracks had been showing for a long time. Derek knew, though, that he had never felt love so intensely as his love for Will. He had never been on the receiving end of a love so fierce. He had been pampered and cared for by his family all through his childhood, but somehow with Will it was different. When it was Will, he felt  _ romantic.  _ Derek had never been romantic. He could appreciate it in cliché movies and emotional language and the color of the sunset, but he had never experienced it for himself. He had never understood why people strove for it before Will.

“I wish we were still together,” he said into the space between them. “Except I kind of don’t because I trusted you with  _ everything.  _ I trusted you with all of me and my life and my sexuality. I trusted you with  _ sex.  _ And you knew — Or soon enough you knew how big a deal that had been for me and you held my hand while I tried to figure it out, how I could be ace and falling in love. But you didn’t trust me, and I hurt you more because of it and that worries me. I need to know that if you don't want to talk to me about something you can at least talk to Chowder or to  _ someone. _ ”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could—” Will choked out a sob. Derek reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry,” Will repeated. “I’m getting help. I talk to Jeanie. And I’m — I trust you. I  _ do _ . And I want to talk to you about these things. I’ll — I don’t know how to do it tonight. Everything’s so jumbled in my head, but I’ll do anything, Derek. I’d do anything to show you how much you mean to me. I’m going to come out to the team. Properly, I mean, because I don’t think that they got it was me earlier.”

A smile played on his lips as he tried to make light of the situation. It only made Derek feel worse. “No, Will. I don’t want you to come out to them like  _ that.  _ It doesn’t even matter what I want. You come out or don’t come out to whoever you want. You don’t owe anyone your sexuality.” He thought back to Leila saying the same thing that morning, and he ached to think he had put that pressure on Will. “I’m sorry for making you feel you had to come out to make me happy. I — I know our situations are different. You don’t have to be out to be happy.”

“What if I want to for me? Jeanie says facing my fears is the best way to get past them. Like cutting back on showers. That gets easier every day. And… what I was most scared of has already happened now.  _ They  _ found out, and I got kicked out. Both of you are right. The team aren’t going to do anything to me, and I  _ know  _ that, even if it’s hard to make myself believe it. But they’ll be more people I can talk to. More people  _ you  _ can talk to.”

“Don’t come out because you’re scared, either. That’s worse than not coming out because you’re scared.”

Will shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I — Look, we already tried a relationship based on secrecy and lies and it was shit. It was the absolute worst when it wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I know a lot of that was me thinking it was destined to fail but it was also that neither of us had anyone to talk to. Having Ransom and Holster around this summer saved me. It was so much better than I thought it could be, because they were there, and I want more of that. The team can’t have my back if they don’t know what might be wrong. If we’re — If we’re going to try at us again, I’d much rather it be out in the open this time. Based on truth, and both of us having the support we need. I’m not saying I want to post it all over Facebook and Twitter, but I don’t want to have to hide in the Haus.”

“You’re sure?” Derek had to check, even though he could see the sincerity and desperation written all over Will’s face. “There are other ways—”

“I’m sure.”

Derek pushed himself up on his elbow so he could look at Will properly. He ran a finger down his nose, and his finger shook when it moved to trace over his cheekbone. Will lay still as Derek’s thumb pressed over his bottom lip. “You’re talking like we’re already back together,” he finally said, drawing his hand away.

“Shit. I am. I’m sorry, you don’t want — You deserve—”

Derek grabbed onto his wrist before he could wriggle away. “I want you. Not when you look like me, but—”

Will choked out a laugh. He pushed up, and Derek moved with him until Will straddled his lap, their noses knocking against each other as they breathed each other in. “No, this is super weird.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, but neither of them pulled away.

“We take this so slow. Snail’s pace. And nothing happens until we’re back to ourselves.”

Derek nodded. “Get off my lap then.”

“It’s my lap,” Will pointed out, but he climbed off and sat the other side of the bed. “Slow,” he repeated, to keep them on topic. “Slow, and we keep checking in with each other. Every day if we need to. So much communication. I’m not going to say no more secrets, because that’s not fair, but more communication, definitely.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything you need? From me? Or just in general for us to do if we’re going to do this?”

Derek cast his mind around, but it felt like everything had already been covered. They were going to work on talking to each other, and being honest. The team would know, so that would make things easier, and going slow would keep them both in control of the situation. The only other thing to consider was — “Chowder. We’re not starting anything until he knows and he’s had the chance to say if there’s anything that worries him and we can talk about it.” Chowder knew both of them better than they knew themselves.

Will already had Derek’s iPad in his hand and pulled up FaceTime.

They shifted closer together so that both of them could see when Chowder appeared on the screen.

“Hi you two! Are you okay? Dex?”

“Yeah. I’m okay, now.”

“You’re safe?”

“I’m safe.”

Chowder relaxed and they watched the background move as he put some distance between himself and the bed where Farmer was asleep. A light turned on and he sat down on a black couch.

“Where are you?” Derek asked.

“Oh! This is the hotel the Falcs have put me up in for the development camp. It’s ‘swawesome. This is like a little sitting area which is separated from the bedroom by this wall.” The camera switched round so that they could see how a divider separated off the area he was sat in. “And the mini fridge is all stocked up and then there’s this massive TV that has like a bajillion channels.” The camera switched back to Chowder’s face. “And! They were totally cool with me asking if Cait could stay too!  _ And  _ when I asked if we could have our room a couple of nights early. I think because of recovering from the Bolts’ camp?”

“That’s nicer than the one Nursey got for the Pens,” Will commented.

“Yeah, but I’m not friends with Sidney Crosby,” Derek pointed out. “It probably makes a difference if you’ve got Jack Zimmermann talking you up.”

Will hummed. “You think Chowder needs Jack to talk him up? Anyone would be lucky to have the best goalie in the NCAA.”

“Good point,” Derek conceded. “When does the camp start, again?”

“Wednesday!” Chowder replied, blushing furiously.

“Oh.” Derek couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. He had hoped that it would be Thursday or Friday, so that they could meet up when he got back from his parents’ house.

Chowder’s face fell. “Why?”

“I just — I hoped we could talk. But it’s the last day of Ramadan tomorrow so Wednesday’s the earliest — Or I guess there’s tomorrow morning, but we still don’t know — And Ransom and Holster will be here.”

“I’ll come up tomorrow. No question.”

“No, C, don’t — You enjoy your time with Farms.”

Chowder smiled, but shook his head.

“We can talk now a bit,” Will suggested cautiously. “We just — ” He glanced at Derek, but neither of them seemed to know what to say.

“When did you swap?” Chowder asked.

“Thursday,” Derek told him. “I wished on the Stanley Cup that we could see each other’s point of view.”

“Fuck,” Chowder breathed. “And you’re still—”

“Yeah.”

“Are you — I mean, do you think you have? Seen each other’s point of view?”

They exchanged hesitant looks. “I think it’s given us the chance and reason to talk through all the things we needed to. I don’t think we can see it completely from each other’s point of view, though. Not _really_ ,” Will said, slowly.

“There’s little things that we’ve seen more of,” Derek added. “Anxiety and how other people tend to treat us a bit?” He glanced at Will, who nodded his agreement. “But as Dex says, we might be looking at the world through each other’s  _ eyes  _ but we’re not learning what it is to be in each other’s minds.”

“That’s okay,” Chowder said. “You don’t have to know every little thing, or every thought or whatever to understand each other enough to make it work.”

Derek let himself lean into Will. Will snaked an arm around his waist and took the contact as permission to speak for the two of them. “That’s why we rang you, actually. We wanted to know if you thought we could make it work.”

Chowder was quiet as he fidgeted around on the couch, and eventually got up and paced thoughtfully. He settled against the wall, staring off over the top of his phone absently, then his eyes snapped back to the screen. He searched their faces.

“Nursey? Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Dex?”

Will nodded without any hesitation. “Yes.”

“Then it can work,” Chowder said, simply.

“But do you think—”

“Tell me what you’ve already decided.” He didn’t elaborate, but Will nodded, understanding immediately what he meant.

“That we go slow. And we communicate better by checking in with each other every day. Whether that be mental health or how we’re feeling about the relationship or whatever we need to talk about. And...” He paused and his eyes flickered to Derek, who frowned back. Why did he look nervous?

Will’s chest moved against Derek's as he took a deep breath. “I know that no matter how much research I do, I’m never going to know what it’s like to be Black, or to be Muslim, or… or to be anything that isn’t a cis White guy, but I do know that I have to make a bigger effort this time around to check myself. To check my privilege and not put Derek— not put  _ either  _ of you down. Or anyone else. And I’m going to be there however you need me to be. You can rant to me, or if you don’t want to talk to me about it at all, I’ll understand and I won’t push.”

Derek squeezed Will’s knee. “I’ll always let you know,” he said. “Which it is. It would be shit for your anxiety if I wasn’t talking to you and you didn’t know why so I’ll let you know.”

Will hugged him tighter.

“It can definitely work,” Chowder said, smiling affectionately at them.

“I’m going to come out to the team,” Will told him. “So you won’t have to keep it a secret this time.”

Chowder narrowed his eyes, but whatever he saw in Will’s face satisfied him, because his expression cleared and he grinned at them. “I’m so happy for you! We can have dates again.”

“That’s the only reason he wants us back together, you know,” Derek told Will. “Farms wouldn’t go for pizza if it was just the two of them.” Will rolled his eyes.

“No!” Chowder protested as he crawled back into bed. “I just want you both to be happy. I love you.”

“Love you, too, C,” Derek told him fondly, and Will agreed.

There was mumbling on Chowder’s end of the call, but the camera jerked around so that they couldn’t see anything. When it refocused, Farmer was squinting at Chowder. “Tell Nursey and Dex you love them,” Chowder told her.

“Wha—?” She noticed the call on his phone and her eyebrows raised. “Oh! Hi guys. Wow okay. Congrats. When’s the wedding?”

“We’re not getting married,” Will said, but she had already rested her head on Chowder’s chest and closed her eyes again.

Derek smiled softly at the screen. “We should let you go. And we should sleep, too. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow — I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but—”

“Okay,” Chowder said. “Goodnight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

After they had said their goodnights, and hung up, Will turned to Derek. “About Eid—”

“No matter what happens tomorrow morning,” Derek told him, “we’ll both go to New York.”

He could see the surprise on Will’s face, and wanted to ask him why he found it so hard to believe when people included him in their family events, but instead he turned his attention to looking for the sweatpants he had slept in the night before. Will nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

The bedroom blurred when he tried to open his eyes, so Derek squeezed them shut again and pressed his face into Will’s back, breathing in his scent, and enjoying the warmth of his bare skin against his —

Derek’s eyes flew open. His lips brushed Will’s freckled back. It was Will’s red hair which tickled his nose when he lifted his head, and his own trimmed nails which ran across Will’s stomach, testing if this was real.

“Holy shit.”

Derek leaned over Will, mapping all his contours and blemishes with his eyes. It was hard to watch Will sleep, and not remember how twitchy and restless he used to be at night. How in frog year, he had kicked and turned and been downright uncomfortable to share a bed with, until anxiety medication had calmed him, but even well into sophomore year he would wriggle in his sleep. He definitely would have flinched by now, with Derek bracketing his body with his hands, but he was completely still. His face was calm and untroubled.

Derek rested his forehead against Will’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“M’sleeping,” Will muttered back, without opening his eyes.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“No,  _ you’re  _ beautiful.”

Derek chuckled at the groggy response. He crawled out of bed, to the continued groans of Will, who pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders and held Tigger tight. Derek brushed his teeth quickly, and went back to the bedroom to put Will’s toothbrush in his hand.

“Ugh,” Will groaned again, and forced himself up, saving Derek a dirty look on his way. Derek stared after him.

“I’d love to chirp you right now, but having experienced how exhausted you are in the mornings, I don’t think I can.”

“Wha—?” Will asked from around his toothbrush.

Derek sat back on the bed, and waited for him to work it out.

“Oh my  _ God!” _

The clatter of a toothbrush being thrown into the sink was followed by Will racing back into the bedroom and flinging himself at Derek. They rolled over twice and Derek had to slam a hand on the mattress to stop them falling off the bed. His other arm gripped around Will’s waist; his body shook with laughter.

“Bet you’re glad I bought a big bed, now.”

“Shut up.” Will bumped their noses together. “You’re back. You’re actually— _We’re_ back.”

His smile was contagious and his eyes were shining.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “We are.”

He rolled them away from the edge of the mattress, so that they were lying next to each other, and he ran a finger down Will’s nose, enjoying the way it crinkled up at the touch.

Will snorted. “What are you doing?”

“Appreciating that you look like you again. Did you mean it last night?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we back as in… We’re trying at us again?”

Will’s eyes darted away and his body went rigid. “I—”

“Oh. Okay.” Derek’s voice cracked.

“I don’t— I mean— I’m—”

“You don’t have to explain. If you’re not ready or — ”

“It’s not that.” Will’s eyes snapped back to his, and he put a hand on Derek’s cheek. “Just give me a second to fight the thoughts trying to tell me it’s a bad idea.”

Derek frowned, but he leaned his forehead against Will’s. “You want to talk it through?”

“M’so scared of hurting you again. It’ll be worse, won’t it? If we fail a second time. And I — I  _ don’t  _ ruin everything, I know that. I’m not the reason my family’s all gone, but — but I can’t stop thinking about that, and if I’m hurting you just by trying.”

“I forgive you for being human,” Derek muttered. “And I love you for trying.”

Will’s thumb traced over his cheekbone. “Are you sure you want to be with me when I’m still such a mess?”

“I’m a mess, too, so we’re perfect for each other,” Derek joked, but Will’s silence softened his tone. “I’m going to call Jeanie later.”

“But—”

“She might be able to recommend someone who can help me.”

A crease appeared between Will's eyebrows and Derek tried to smooth it out with his thumb. “I probably don't have the right to ask this,” Will said.

Derek waited for him to elaborate, but he never did. “You can ask me anything, I just might not give you the answer you want.”

“I— Can you not drive when you're dissociating? That's so dangerous and I can't believe you got me to drive last night.”

“It's not that bad. It's all automatic pilot. We're all safe aren't we?”

“Derek. You know what about being a passenger makes me anxious. Please. ‘Automatic pilot’ while dissociating is about as much control as not being behind the wheel at all.”

Derek's heart twisted at the worry in Will's voice. He tightened his arm around him and nodded. “Okay. I'm sorry. For getting you to drive. I thought I was doing the right thing but it was kind of stupid so I'm sorry. And I won't do it again. With me either. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Will breathed. Their eyes flickered over each other, half-lidded but shining.

“Yeah.” Derek trailed his hand down Will's spine.

Will closed in until their noses were nudging at each other’s cheeks and their breaths were joined together, but he let Derek be the one to press their lips together, just as he had always in the past. They had only traded a few soft kisses when Derek’s fingers flew up to dig into Will’s hair. When he tugged, he drew out a soft moan which made him grin into Will’s lips.

“You’re the worst,” Will told him.

Derek hummed, moving his attention to Will’s jawbone. “You love me.”

“Yeah. No hickeys.”

Derek’s head stilled above where he had been about to drop his kisses to Will’s neck. “I’m hungry.”

“Doesn’t mean you can eat  _ me _ .”

“No, no, I just meant — Breakfast?”

“I can’t believe I forgot how smooth you are.”

They were halfway down the stairs when the sound of voices from the kitchen reminded them that they weren’t the only ones in the Haus. Will’s steps faltered.

“Hey. Look at me,” Derek said, tugging on his hand. “It’s just Rans and Holtzy and Leila. They all already know.”

Will’s face was pale and his eyes darted from side to side when he swallowed. He nodded and let Derek guide him the last few steps.

Will's fingers tightened around Derek’s when Ransom, Holster and Leila snapped their heads towards them. Derek squeezed back.

“Good morning,” he offered.

Leila’s eyes flickered down to their hands before she responded, “Morning…”

“You sit down. I'll get breakfast,” Will said.

“I can — ” Derek clamped his mouth shut when he saw the need in Will's eyes to do something with his hands and focus on something practical. “Thank you.”

Leila eyed him warily when he sat down next to her, so he figured he should answer one question he was sure they had. “Morning,” he said again, but this time he spoke in Somali and he punctuated the greeting with a kiss to Leila’s cheek.

“Are you sure about this, Der?” She spoke loud enough that Will had definitely heard, but he didn’t turn away from the stove.

Derek sighed. “Can you stop treating me like a child and accept that I can make my own decisions about who I want to date?”

Leila looked irritated.  _ “Derek.” _

Will put a cup of tea, and a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, but rather than sitting down or turning to get his own breakfast, he raised an eyebrow at Leila. “Let’s talk. Upstairs.”

When they had left, Derek frowned at Ransom and Holster. “Are you going to give me the shovel talk, now, too?” It was strange, thinking that they had chosen Will over him. Or… Holster had said the day before that he wasn’t choosing either one of them, but at the very least it was Will they had spent the summer comforting and talking to and being around. Even if they tried not to take sides, it was obvious who they would defend.

“I don’t think that’s at all necessary.” Ransom frowned at Derek as if he were a particularly hard puzzle to solve. “Nursey. You know we don’t blame you, right? You’re still our bro.”

Derek stared at the table. His hand clenched around his spoon, and a lump formed in his throat. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Ransom’s words, but he was sceptical that being completely unbiased was possible.

Ransom rested his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Nursey. I’m sorry.”

“We both are,” Holster agreed. He moved to sit in Leila’s vacated seat.

“Because you chose Will?” Derek was certain that was what they meant, but he needed to hear it out loud. Maybe he was masochistic.

“On Friday, you said you missed us,” Ransom reminded him. “We thought it was Dex, so we didn’t think about it, but we were talking about it again last night, knowing that had been you. We shouldn’t have let you push us away so easily. We should have been better friends and realized that you not replying to anyone, and using being busy as an excuse was a sign things weren’t right. Especially given we knew what had happened between you and Dex.”

“I wasn’t depressed,” Derek told them. That’s what it sounded like Ransom was assuming, but Derek had lain through the sleepless nights, and started at least twenty new books, and spent a week with his credit cards and phone and laptop locked in his mothers’ safe because of impulses to go online shopping. He’d been paranoid, and wanted a joint despite knowing that it was the worst thing for him in that condition. (He didn’t smoke, anyway. He hadn’t since that time after his Andover graduation). He was the furthest from depressed.

“You were struggling, and we made you do it on your own. All it would have taken was us pulling you aside before the summer and saying ‘hey, we know you and Dex were together and have just broken up,’ and you would have known there was someone you could talk to.”

“I had Chowder. And my family.”

Ransom sighed. “We all know Dex told Chowder to look after you and that probably means he was treating you like you're breakable. Add on that he’s Dex’s best friend as much as yours, and were you actually  _ talking  _ to him?”

Derek shifted awkwardly. “I guess not.”

“And your family?” Holster asked.

“I—” He searched for the right words. “Every time I talked to them, I found myself wanting to defend Will.”

“Right,” Ransom said, with force. “because they’re one hundred percent on your side and while that’s great, they don’t know him like you do.”

Derek swallowed and nodded. That was the next thing to worry about. As Will’s need to have a talk with Leila proved, the Nurses might not accept Will into their family as easily for a second time as they had the first. Derek wanted to share his happiness with his mothers, but they would most likely meet the news, and Will, with distrust.

“We love you, bro,” Holster told him. “We’ll worry that you’re jumping into this too fast, and that you’re forgiving him when you haven’t given yourself time to heal, but—” He glanced at Ransom for help.

“We know that you can figure those things out for yourself,” Ransom supplied. “And as long as both of you are happy, we’re happy.”

A knock on the doorframe made Derek turn around, mid-nod. Leila peered in at them, and Will stood behind her looking surprisingly calm.

“For the record,” Derek said, responding to Ransom and Holster, but talking more to Leila than either of them, “with the whole healing thing, I’m going to make an appointment to see a therapist.”

“I’m going to work harder at communication, too. With Nursey and with the rest of the team,” Will added.

When Leila nodded, it was a sign of her approval.

Derek beckoned Will over and pulled him onto his lap before he could protest. “No fines while we’re getting our shit together and Dex is learning that it’s okay to be gay.”

“Uh, wait a minute—” Holster said, in a loud voice, but Ransom hit him in the stomach. “Oof.  _ Fine.  _ Okay. That’s fine as in I accept your terms, not fine as in give us money for the cutsie lap sitting and hand holding and googly eyes.”

Will rolled his eyes, but he didn’t make to move. Derek pressed a smile into his neck.

Ransom’s phone beeped. He winced when he checked it. “Chowder says they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“What?” Will asked. “Who?”

“I don’t — The whole team, I think.”

“It’s okay,” Will muttered to himself. Derek squeezed his waist. “It’s  _ okay,”  _ Will repeated. “I’m staying here. They can — They can see. They need to know. I’m serious, I need to tell them.”

His foot tapped against Derek’s leg, and his body started to shake.

“Okay. Okay, babe, but breathe. There’s no pressure. No rush, either.”

Will grabbed his hand, and held on like this was the game winning shot of the Frozen Four, and only he could take it. Together, they breathed.

At the sound of the door, Will jumped off Derek’s lap, and crashed into another chair. The team piled into the kitchen just as Will shot Derek a horrified look, which melted into remorse. Derek shook his head. It didn’t matter if Will was ready to tell them or not. The last thing he wanted was for Will to feel pushed into coming out.

“Is everything okay?” Chowder asked, before Tango had even closed the door behind him. “Nursey—” His eyes flickered to Will, who had his eyes closed and was focused on his breathing.

“I’m okay, C,” Derek said, pointedly. “I’m great, actually. Everything’s — It’s all good.  _ All  _ of it.”

Chowder lit up, and ran to hug Derek, knocking over a chair in the process. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you.”

The hug should have wrapped him in warmness and made him appreciative of all the friends he had around him, but instead he was consumed by the guilt of abandoning them all over the summer, and especially for how he had treated Chowder, who had only ever wanted the best for him. “C. Chris. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“But I — ”

“I know what you’re saying sorry for. But don’t.”

“It wasn’t okay.”

Chowder sat back on the table to look him in the eye. Bitty coughed pointedly, and Chowder got off the table and picked up the fallen chair to sit on. “It wasn’t okay, and I accept your apology, but I also have to apologize to you, and there’s more important things to talk about right now, so just  _ don’t.  _ We’ll have a frogs sleepover later. Okay?”

Will opened his eyes. “A frogs sleepover sounds good. But we’re going to New York this afternoon.”

“And you know I’m at the Falconers development camp from tomorrow.” Chowder said. “I didn’t mean today, later. Next week sometime. Why are you still all the way over there? Get over here.”

At first Will grinned at Derek over Chowder’s shoulder while they hugged, but soon enough, they had leaned in his direction. Derek wrapped his arms around both of them and let out a huff of surprise when Will dropped into his lap again. Chowder careened into them, laughing even as Will shifted his grip to steady them before anybody fell off their chair.

“I missed you guys,” Chowder told them. Derek swallowed against a lump in his throat, and the way Will’s foot pressed against his was too firm to be an accident.

“I missed you, too,” Will said. “Both of you. We… We both missed you, C.”

“Boys,” Bitty cut in. “Not to interrupt this moment or anything, but I’m a little confused by all this.” He waved his hand vaguely in Derek and Will’s direction.

“Me too,” added Tango.

Will glanced at Derek. “We have something to tell you,” he said. “Well, first  _ I  _ have something to tell you, that I tried to tell you yesterday, but it didn’t really work.” He reached out, clasped Derek's hand, pulled it around his waist and squeezed hard. He took a deep breath, then let it out. When he had breathed in a second time, he finally told them. “I’m gay.”

There was a beat, and Derek could see half the team reassessing everything they had ever thought of Will.

“Huh,” Ollie said.

“And me and Nursey were in a relationship for a year and a half and broke up when we got dibs together because my anxiety was all over the place and now we’re back together.” The words fell out of Will’s mouth rushed and slightly garbled, and his hand started to feel sweaty, but he no longer trembled against Derek’s chest. Derek tightened his grip around his waist, and smiled into the back of Will’s neck.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, letting the words brush against Will’s skin. A shiver ran down Will’s spine.

“You were what now?” Bitty asked, with wide eyes.

“When did you try and tell us this yesterday?” Tango asked.

Will glanced at Derek, uncertainty clouding his face. “Oh, uh — It’s a long story?”

“It is,” Derek agreed. “What do you know about Stanley Cup magic?”

A tension in Will broke. He huffed out a laugh. “Oh my God, Derek, it’s not — ”

“What other logical explanation is there?”

“That’s logical?”

Ford cleared her throat. “From the beginning, boys.”

They turned back to her.

“I guess it really began at our Taddy Tour, when both of us wanted the hockey scholarship,” Will started. Derek hooked his chin over his shoulder, ready to help with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you everyone for reading! I've appreciated all your comments and kudos so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you to my beta readers [Rowdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleNansi/pseuds/UncleNansi), [Ant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotKid/pseuds/RiotKid), and [Kylie](http://whiskeytangofrogman.tumblr.com/) and everyone else on Discord who made little edits here and there and cheered me on with writing this <3


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